The apartment was quiet, dimmed by the early evening shadows stretching through the window panes. The hum of the air conditioning was the only sound between them — Leon sitting at the edge of the couch, elbows on his knees, lost in silence, and Maureen reclining nearby, a bandage still wrapped tight beneath her loose cardigan.
She'd made sure he saw it. The blood had long dried. The stitches were healing. But the wound? The wound was a gift — a chain she wore proudly.
Leon hadn't said much since they got back from the hospital. His head had been elsewhere — haunted by what could've happened, what didn't happen.
"You should eat something," Maureen said softly, placing a tray on the table. She had made him stew — the kind he liked, or at least remembered liking when they were younger.
He didn't move.
She sat beside him, letting her hand brush against his. "You haven't said a word to me since this morning."
Leon ran a hand down his face, exhausted. "There's nothing to say."
Maureen turned slightly, her voice barely a whisper. "I almost died, Leon."
His jaw clenched.
"I didn't ask for a medal," she went on, "but maybe I deserve more than silence. More than this… distance."
He finally looked at her. "What do you want me to say?"
"I want you to acknowledge that I matter to you," she said simply. "That you care I'm here. That me taking that bullet wasn't just some accident you're obligated to babysit."
The silence that followed was sharp.
Leon stood up, pacing slowly. The weight in his chest made it hard to breathe.
"I don't know what I feel anymore," he muttered.
"But you said yes," Maureen reminded him, rising too — one hand pressed to her side. "You said I could be your girlfriend."
"I said that because you were bleeding out on the floor," he snapped, then quickly lowered his voice. "I said it because I thought you were dying."
Maureen's face tightened, but she masked it quickly. "And I didn't die. So what now, Leon? Do you just throw me away?"
He looked at her then — truly looked at her. Guilt swirled in his eyes like a storm barely restrained.
"No," he said at last. "I don't throw people away."
She stepped closer. "Then don't throw me away."
He didn't answer, but he didn't step back either.
And Maureen… Maureen smiled to herself.
She had her place now. Maybe not in his heart.
But guilt could hold the door open long enough for love to crawl in.