Part 3 of The Space Between Us:Distance We Remember | Desire Lines
DL - Livia didn’t expect to feel nervous about seeing Noah again. But when the doorbell rang, and she opened it to find him standing there holding two cups of coffee and that same crooked smile, her heart stumbled a little.
They had been meeting more often. Quiet dinners. Long walks. Even simple things like folding laundry while old jazz played in the background. It felt natural.
But life, as always, waited just around the corner.
That evening, as they sat across from each other on her living room floor, half-finished pizza between them, Noah’s phone buzzed.
He glanced at it and grew still.
Livia noticed. “Everything okay?”
He hesitated. “It’s Mia. She’s in town.”
Livia felt the name drop like a stone in still water.
Mia. His almost-fiancée. The one who left him when life became too uncertain.
“She wants to meet,” he said quietly. “Just... to talk.”
Livia didn’t speak. She didn’t need to. Her silence was a mirror, showing him exactly what she felt.
“I’m not confused,” he added quickly. “I’m here with you. But... I think I need to close something properly.”
She nodded. Not because she didn’t care. But because she did.
Two days later.
The sky was cloudless, but her chest felt heavy. Livia stood by the window, watching shadows stretch across her floor.
He had met Mia that morning. No updates. No messages.
She hated that it mattered this much.
Because the truth was: in every rekindled flame, there's a part that fears the wind will come again.
When Noah finally called that night, his voice was low. Tired.
“I saw her,” he said. “We talked. It didn’t feel like closure, it felt like watching a movie I no longer belonged in.”
Livia exhaled, deeply. “And now?”
“I’m sure,” he whispered. “I want to be present where I feel peace. With you.”
But Livia didn’t answer right away.
Because she knew something, too: love wasn’t just about choosing each other, it was about staying chosen, even when uncertainty knocked.
Later that night, as they sat beside each other in silence, she reached for his hand, not tightly, but gently.
“Next time,” she said, “just don’t make me guess where I stand.”
He nodded. “Next time, you won’t have to.”
They sat like that for a long time. Quiet. Not perfect. But honest.
And sometimes, that’s all a second chance needs.