Chapter Twelve

The walk was peaceful. The sun had dipped just enough to leave the sky a shade of soft lilac, while the horizon flirted with gold. Distant birds chirped sleepily, and the river ahead shimmered under the first glow of fairy lights, strung like constellations among the trees.

Jack and Maya moved slowly. Neither of them spoke for a while, but the silence between them was... comfortable. Her hand still nestled in his, his thumb occasionally brushing the side of hers. A gentle rhythm. Easy.

And yet, her thoughts were anything but still.

She couldn’t stop stealing glances at him — the way his hair curled slightly at the ends, the way his smile formed like it wasn’t entirely used to being on a human face, the quiet warmth of his presence. Something about him was... pure. Unapologetically kind.

And maybe a little weird. But good weird.

“So,” Maya finally said, breaking the quiet. “I feel like I should ask at least one normal question before we get to the waffles.”

Jack turned his head, almost too fast. “You want to know something about me?”

She squinted. “Why do you look so surprised?”

“I’m just—uh—honored. What’s the question?”

“Well... favorite show?”

His eyes lit up. “Oh! There’s this animated series called Steven Universe. It made me cry twice.”

Maya stared at him. “You cried over a cartoon?”

“I wept,” he said with zero shame. “There’s a scene with a ukulele. It shattered me.”

She let out a laugh, shaking her head. “Okay. That was unexpected.”

Jack grinned. “Is it a dealbreaker?”

“Depends. What kind of music do you listen to?”

He looked up, squinting at the sky as if consulting it. “Bon Iver. Classical cello. I also like... whatever that one song was. With the sad violin and the girl screaming in French.”

Maya blinked. “That’s... wildly specific.”

“I have diverse tastes,” he replied proudly.

She smirked. “You’re strange.”

“I know,” he said, then added, “But you’re still walking with me.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

“I can’t help it,” he said with a wink. “You’re asking me about myself. That’s like—euphoria.”

Suddenly, his feet lifted an inch off the ground. Just barely. A gentle, almost imperceptible float.

Maya stopped. “Did you just—?”

Jack immediately stumbled forward like he tripped on a root. “Yep. That was gravity. Totally normal gravity accident. Human feet. Super clumsy.”

Maya squinted. “You’re weird.”

“You said that already,” he said, trying not to look rattled. But there was a shift now. He was quieter. A little more careful.

His smile still lingered, but he glanced at the path ahead more than her now, as if double-checking his steps.

Maya noticed. Of course she did.

She nudged him with her shoulder. “Relax. I’m not going to run just because you’re a little floaty.”

Jack’s eyes flicked to hers. Grateful. “It’s not you I’m worried about.”

Her brows raised, but he didn’t elaborate. He just kept walking, hand still in hers.

Finally, the trees opened into a beautiful clearing, and Maya's breath caught.

The café sat at the edge of the river, nestled beneath swaying willow trees and surrounded by a garden that looked plucked from a fairytale. Warm, low-hanging lights twinkled among the branches, reflecting in the water like fallen stars. Wooden tables dotted the cobbled path, each with flickering lanterns in tiny glass domes. The scent of cinnamon, vanilla, and roasted hazelnuts drifted through the air.

“Oh wow,” she whispered.

Jack looked at her, more focused on her awe than the scenery. “Do you like it?”

“I feel like I stepped into a dream,” she said softly.

He led her toward a table tucked slightly away from the rest — more private, shielded by a cluster of flowering shrubs and ivy-covered trellises. He pulled her chair out before she could touch it, and when she sat, he gently pushed it in.

“Chivalry’s not dead, huh?” she teased.

“I looked it up on YouTube,” Jack said. “Apparently chairs are a big deal.”

She laughed again, shaking her head.

A young waitress came over, and Jack waited until Maya ordered first. He mimicked her choice exactly. Two cinnamon waffles with hot chocolate and cream.

“You copied me,” she said once the waitress left.

“I trust your judgment,” he said simply.

Maya leaned back, folding her arms across the table. “Alright, your turn. Ask me something.”

Jack sat forward, his eyes serious but not intense. “What’s your biggest dream?”

Maya blinked. “Wow. Okay. Jumping right in, are we?”

He smiled, but it was softer now. “You don’t have to answer.”

“No, it’s just…” she glanced at the river, her voice dropping. “I don’t really think about it much anymore.”

Jack frowned slightly. “Why not?”

She shrugged. “Life gets in the way.”

Silence stretched between them. Not uncomfortable, but heavier than before. The lights flickered slightly overhead. Jack looked at her, really looked at her — and then slowly leaned in.

“Maya,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “I know I come off like I’m joking all the time. Or like I’m trying too hard. But I’m here because I want to know you. Not just surface stuff. The deep stuff. Even the broken parts.”

Maya looked down.

“I get the feeling,” Jack continued, “that you carry a lot you don’t let people see. You make jokes. You keep everyone at arm’s length. But there’s more to you. And I want to be someone you don’t have to protect yourself from.”

Her throat tightened.

“I think,” he went on gently, “you’re scared that if someone really sees all of you, they’ll leave. Or worse—stay, but not understand. But I’m not going anywhere. Not because I have all the answers, but because I don’t need them. I just want you to tell me. In your time.”

Maya swallowed hard, blinking rapidly. “You sound like a therapist.”

Jack’s lips twitched. “A charming one?”

“A nosy one.”

They both laughed softly, but hers cracked near the end. A tear slipped down her cheek, and she quickly wiped it away.

Jack’s expression shifted, eyes glimmering. He reached across the table and gently, slowly, brushed his thumb under her eye.

“You don’t have to hide that from me either.”

Maya sniffed, half-laughing through the emotion. “God, you’re intense.”

“I’m trying not to be,” he said with a sad smile. “But the way you look at me when you’re really listening? It kind of destroys me.”

Her lips parted slightly. “You’re such a mess.”

“And yet,” he said with a dramatic sigh, “you’re still here.”

Another tear fell — but this one came with a quiet laugh. She shook her head and muttered, “You’re ridiculous.”

“I try.”

Their drinks arrived then, giving them a moment to breathe, to reset. Maya took a sip of her hot chocolate, letting the warmth soothe her chest. Jack watched her closely, but didn’t press. He just waited.

After a long pause, she finally said, “I used to want to travel the world. Photograph every inch of it. Be someone brave.”

Jack leaned forward. “You are brave.”

“Not in the ways that matter.”

“In all the ways that do.”

The compliment hit harder than expected. Maya looked at him. Really looked. And saw the weight behind his words. The sincerity. The longing.

So she said, gently, “Okay. Your turn.”

Jack blinked. “Oh. Um. Alright.” He cleared his throat dramatically. “Deep confessions?”

“Only fair.”

He looked down at his cup. “I’ve never felt anything like this before.”

Maya raised an eyebrow. “Like what?”

“This.” He gestured between them. “Connection. Wanting to impress someone. Trying not to float off the ground when they laugh.”

She snorted. “That still sounds like a medical issue.”

“Could be,” he said. “Or maybe it’s just… you.”

Maya glanced down, hiding her smile behind her cup.

“And I don’t know what this is, or where it’s going,” he added. “But I know that if it ends right here, tonight, with cinnamon and fairy lights, I’d still be glad I met you.”

She looked up at him again, eyes softer than before. “You’re a lot.”

“I’m also charming.”

She gave a small nod. “Yeah… you kind of are.”

Jack grinned, triumphant. “I knew it. You like me.”

Maya smirked. “I’m warming up to you.”

“Is it because of my devastating honesty? Or the fact that I held your chair?”

“The waffles might be helping.”

Jack laughed, then tilted his head. “Can I compliment you now?”

“You already did.”

“No, like... officially.” He cleared his throat. “You have this way of blinking when you’re trying not to show emotion. You blink a lot. But it’s cute. And your sarcasm? Flawless. Honestly, it’s an art form. And your laugh?”

Maya’s cheeks flushed.

“Don’t even get me started,” Jack continued. “You laugh like someone who forgot what joy felt like, and suddenly remembered it all at once.”

She blinked again. “Stop.”

“Never.”

Their eyes locked.

This time, the silence wasn’t heavy. It was full. Warm. Safe.

The lights around them flickered slightly in the breeze, casting soft golden halos on their faces. The river murmured nearby, a quiet lullaby. The rest of the café blurred away — it was just the two of them now, seated at a table that felt a little like magic.

And neither of them wanted to move.

Not yet.