The silence of the walk home stretched like an overcast sky above Miles's head, heavy and too quiet. He took the long way around again, even though he had math homework due and no real excuse to avoid home today. But habits were habits, and lately, walking was the only thing that made sense. The only thing that helped him feel like he had some kind of control over the noise in his head.
The party, the aftermath, Leia... it all felt like a puzzle scattered on the floor. He'd been trying to piece it together since Saturday night, but some parts were still missing. She had looked at him like he mattered again-like she still saw him. And God, the way she had curled into him when they were alone. He could still feel the weight of her head on his chest.
And now? Now he was heading back to the wreckage of everything else. The house that smelled like stale beer and yesterday's regret. Except this time, something was off. Way off.
As he turned the corner onto his street, his steps slowed. A car sat idling outside his house.
Not just any car.
A sleek, unfamiliar one-black, shiny, way too polished for this neighbourhood. It stood out like a sore thumb next to the faded paint and cracked pavement of their street. For a second, Miles thought maybe it belonged to someone across the road. A friend of the neighbours, maybe. But as he walked closer, the driver's side door opened.
And out stepped a woman.
His stomach dropped before his brain could catch up.
No way.
There was no mistaking the way her hair-longer than he remembered-moved when the wind caught it. The shape of her face. The slight hunch in her shoulders like she already expected to be unwanted.
"Miles?" she called out softly.
He froze on the sidewalk, a few yards away. Every part of him screamed to turn around, to walk away and pretend he didn't see her. But he couldn't move.
He hadn't seen her in almost 2 months. Two of radio silence. 1 Of nights when he'd ask his dad where she was and only get silence or slurred insults in return. 2 months of pretending he didn't care. 2 months of becoming a different person just to survive.
Now she was here. Right outside the house she walked away from.
"What the hell are you doing here?" His voice cracked more than he wanted it to.
She flinched, and he hated that a small part of him cared. That same part that used to sit at the window hoping maybe-just maybe-she'd drive by, even if it was just to see him from a distance.
"I just wanted to talk to you," she said gently, her hands shaking as she stepped closer. "To see you."
"No," he said sharply. "You don't get to do that."
"I know I should've come sooner-"
"You shouldn't have come at all," he snapped. "Where the hell have you been?"
She opened her mouth to answer, but he was already walking past her, up the front steps to the porch. The key trembled in his fingers, rage boiling under his skin.
"Miles, wait," she tried again, "I know I hurt you-"
He spun around so fast the screen door clattered behind him. "No. Don't pretend you know. You don't. You weren't here. You left me-with him-and never came back! You barely checked in, barely wrote, didn't care!"
Tears welled up in her eyes, but they only made him angrier.
"You said you'd never leave me," he said, voice raw. "You said you loved me. Then you were gone. Just like that."
"I didn't have a choice," she whispered. "Your father-he made it impossible-"
"Bullshit!" he barked. "You had a choice. You just didn't pick me."
Silence.
The wind picked up. Leaves swirled around her heels.
Miles could barely breathe, his hands curling into fists at his sides. She looked smaller now. Older. And still, nothing she said felt like enough.
"I'm here now," she said softly.
He laughed bitterly. "Yeah, well... it's too late. I'm not some little kid you can come back to when it's convenient."
He turned again and opened the door. He paused in the frame for a moment, and when he finally spoke, his voice was lower, colder.
"I don't want anything from you. Not an explanation. Not your guilt. Definitely not your pity."
And then he closed the door.
The silence inside the house was louder than anything she could've said. The air felt heavy with the weight of everything unsaid, and as Miles stood with his back against the door, he exhaled sharply, his chest rising and falling.
He had dreamed of this moment for months-what he'd say if he saw her again. But none of those dreams ended like this. None of them ended with him feeling more hollow than before.
He dropped his backpack on the floor and walked into the living room. The couch still had Theo's old hoodie draped over it from earlier that week, and the ashtray was thankfully empty for once. But none of it mattered right now.
His heart was racing. He needed to calm down.
He went upstairs, straight to his room, and closed the door behind him. For a few seconds, he just stood there, staring at the posters on his wall, the old hoodie Leia had left one time by accident. He sat on the edge of the bed, hands clasped together.
Why now?
Why now, after he'd finally managed to start fixing what was broken?
He grabbed his phone and stared at the screen for a long time. No new messages. Nothing from Leia. Not since the party. Not since the moment he knew they were finally trying again.
But now this.
His mother's return felt like a thread unravelling the fragile thing he was just beginning to rebuild.
He let out a heavy breath, flopped backward on the bed, and stared at the ceiling.
"I don't want her back," he whispered into the quiet.
But he didn't sound so sure.