The rain started again just after six.
Maya Bennett stood by the window of her tiny art studio, watching the water paint streaks across the glass. Harbor's Edge was quiet this time of day-shops closed early, and the seagulls had long since flown inland. But the sound of rain? That stayed. It filled the silence she lived in now.
Behind her, little Leo was sprawled on the floor with crayons, humming to himself, a picture of her and him in stick figures slowly taking shape. She smiled softly. Four years old, and he was already creating worlds, just like her.
"Mommy," he chirped, holding up a green crayon. "Can I make your hair purple this time?"
She chuckled. "If that's how you see me, baby, go ahead."
The bell above the studio door jingled suddenly.
Maya turned. She wasn't expecting anyone. Most of her regulars came during the afternoon-tourists looking for art classes, locals needing something to distract their children.
But this man wasn't a tourist.
He stepped inside like the storm followed him. Tall, soaked in a dark coat, his presence filled the room before his voice did. She knew that walk. That stillness.
That face.
Maya froze.
Damien.
For a moment, the world stopped. The rain outside dulled, her breath caught, and the weight of four years pressed into her chest like a stone.
He didn't speak. Not yet. Just looked at her like he'd seen a ghost-and maybe he had.
Her heart thudded painfully as her eyes scanned him. He looked older. Harder. The softness in his eyes was gone, replaced by a storm she couldn't read.
"Maya," he finally said.
Just her name. But it cracked something inside her wide open.
"What... what are you doing here?" she whispered.
He stepped closer, water trailing from his coat. His eyes flicked to the side, where Leo sat cross-legged on the floor, still humming, still coloring.
And then back to her.
"I needed to see you," he said. "There are things I never got to say."
Her fingers curled around the edge of her table, knuckles white.
"You shouldn't be here," she said, voice trembling.
But he didn't move. He looked at her like he was trying to find something lost. Something stolen.
His voice dropped lower.
"What happened to us, Maya?"
She opened her mouth to answer-but the words were gone. Four years of silence, heartbreak, and the truth that stood just feet away coloring with crayons... was too much.
Leo looked up. "Hi," he said cheerfully. "Are you Mommy's friend?"
Damien blinked.
Maya's breath hitched.
And then silence again.
Only now, it was the kind that screamed.