Hex sat at the kitchen table long after the last contact had been deleted from his phone. The silence felt different now—not empty, but honest. The Bible lay open beside him, his notebook filled with the kind of truths he'd avoided for years. He had cut ties with the past, but one name lingered in his mind like a quiet ache.
Hazel.
They had known each other for three years. Three years of blurred lines, late‑night calls, and a connection built on everything except what either of them truly needed. She wasn't just another name in his phone. She had cared for him in ways he never deserved back then—rides when he was stranded, meals when he forgot to eat, conversations that went deeper than he ever admitted.
And he had repaid her with inconsistency, desire without direction, and a version of himself that was lost.
Hazel had been the one to walk away. Not out of anger, but out of clarity. She had told him—voice shaking but steady—that what they were doing was destroying them both. That the lust, the impulsiveness, the lack of boundaries… it was eating at their souls. She didn't want to watch either of them fall any further.
Hex hadn't understood then.
He did now.
His thumb hovered over her name in his messages. He hadn't deleted her. He couldn't. Not because he wanted the past back, but because Hazel had been one of the few people who saw him as more than his mistakes.
He took a breath, steady and deliberate, the way Pastor Mark had taught him.
Then he typed:
"Hazel… I know it's been a long time. I'm not reaching out for what we used to be. I'm reaching out because I owe you something honest. I'm changing. I'm learning. And I wanted to thank you for everything you did for me—things I didn't appreciate then. You were right to walk away. I just hope you're doing well."
He stared at the message for a long moment. It wasn't a plea. It wasn't a trap. It wasn't a doorway back into old habits.
It was closure. Respect. Growth.
Hex pressed Send.
The message left his phone like an exhale he'd been holding for years. He didn't expect a reply. He didn't need one. This wasn't about getting Hazel back. It was about acknowledging the truth:
She had cared for him when he didn't care for himself.
And now, finally, he was becoming the man she always hoped he could be.
Hex closed his notebook, folded his hands, and whispered a quiet prayer—not for reconciliation, but for peace. For her. For himself.
Hex was rinsing out his coffee mug when his phone buzzed on the counter. He glanced at the screen, expecting another scripture notification or a reminder from his notes.
But it was her.
Hazel: Is that dinner still on the offer table?
Hex froze.
He stared at the message, heart thudding in his chest. It was simple. Casual. But it carried weight. After everything—after the silence, the distance, the confession—Hazel had reached back.
He didn't hesitate.
Hex: This evening. 4pm. Maggiano's Little Italy by the St. Louis Galleria.
He hit send, then stared at the screen like it might vanish.
A moment later, her reply came.
Hazel: See you later.
Hex blinked. The smile emoji. The softness in her tone. It wasn't cold. It wasn't guarded. It was… warm.
He sat down slowly, trying to process it. Was this a date? Was it closure? Was it just two people meeting over pasta to talk about the past?
He didn't know.
But he knew he had to show up as the man he was becoming—not the man he used to be.
He walked to his closet, scanning his options. No flashy colors. No loud prints. He wanted calm. Respect. Simplicity.
He chose a black turtleneck shirt—clean, fitted, understated. Black dress pants. Black dress shoes. And his coffee brown Apple Watch, the one that felt mature, grounded.
Then he glanced at his iphone case.
The Dragon Ball Z case, bold and chaotic, didn't match the tone of the evening. He swapped it out for something quieter—a golden trim cloud case. Elegant. Peaceful. Like the kind of man who didn't need to shout to be heard.
Hex looked at himself in the mirror. He didn't look like the guy Hazel used to know. He looked like someone new. Someone trying.
He whispered to himself:
"Let her see the change. Not just hear it."
And with that, he grabbed his keys, his notebook, and his courage.
Dinner was waiting.
4:00PM
Maggiano's Little Italy was warm and dimly lit, the kind of place where conversations softened and time slowed down. Hex sat in a booth tucked away in the back, the quietest corner he could find. His black turtleneck fit snug across his shoulders, his coffee‑brown Apple Watch glinting faintly under the overhead lamp.
He kept his head down, tapping through an Uno Mobile match on his phone—more to steady his nerves than for entertainment. Every few seconds, he glanced toward the entrance.
Then he saw her.
Hazel stepped inside, and the entire restaurant seemed to shift. She wore a black skirt that moved gently with each step, paired with an off‑white fitted long‑sleeve top that complimented her frame. A soft white veil draped over her head, delicate and almost angelic. Her heels clicked lightly against the floor, and her long curly hair was pulled into a high ponytail with two strands framing her face.
Black mascara made her eyes stand out, clear gloss shimmered on her lips, and white heart‑shaped earrings brushed her jawline.
Hex forgot how to breathe.
Hazel's faint smile wavered when she spotted him—surprised, unsure, but not cold. The waiter approached her with a polite gesture toward Hex's booth.
"This way, miss."
Hazel nodded and walked over. Hex stood halfway, unsure if he should hug her, shake her hand, or simply greet her. He ended up doing nothing at all—just staring, stunned.
She slid into the seat across from him. The waiter asked, "What can I get you to drink?"
Hazel smiled softly. "I would like your all‑natural lemonade, please."
"Of course," the waiter said before stepping away.
Silence settled between them. Not tense—just heavy. Eight long minutes passed. Hazel looked around the restaurant. Hex stared at the table, then at her, then back at the table. Neither spoke.
Finally, Hex reached for his phone… and turned it completely off. He placed it face‑down on the table. Hazel noticed, nodded once, and powered off her own phone before tossing it gently into her purse.
Only then did Hex speak.
"How have you been, Hazel?"
Her eyes softened. She took a breath. "A lot has happened… My father passed away last year."
Hex's heart dropped. His jaw tightened. His fist clenched under the table as a wave of regret washed over him.
I didn't get a chance to meet her father… She met my stepmother, my grandpa, my little brother… but I never met her father.
He swallowed hard. "I'm… I'm sorry for your loss. May he rest in peace."
Hazel gave a small, grateful smile. "Thank you."
She folded her hands on the table. "So… how have you been doing?"
Hex straightened slightly, grounding himself. "I've been working. I got a job at Golden Arrow Tech Security."
Hazel's brows lifted. "Security? Really?"
"Yeah," he said, warming up a little. "It's a tech‑based company. They've got drones and little robots patrolling the facilities. Not just there—Whole Foods, Walmart, Target, Bank of America branches… all of them use our systems. I monitor the feeds, check the alerts, make sure everything's running smooth. It's steady work. Good work."
Hazel nodded slowly, impressed. "That sounds… really responsible. I'm glad you found something stable."
Hex felt something loosen in his chest. Her approval mattered more than he wanted to admit.
And for the first time since she walked in, he allowed himself to breathe.
The waiter returned with a quiet smile, placing Hazel's lemonade gently in front of her. The glass was cold, beads of condensation sliding down the sides. He set a small plate between them—warm slices of Italian bread and a shallow dish of olive oil shimmering with herbs.
"Your appetizer," he said softly. "Your entrées will be out shortly."
Then he stepped away, leaving the two of them alone again.
Hazel tore a small piece of bread, dipped it lightly into the oil, and set it on her plate without eating it. Hex did the same, more out of politeness than hunger. His stomach was too tight for food.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then Hazel exhaled, her voice barely above a whisper. "It's… strange seeing you again."
Hex nodded. "Yeah. It is."
She looked down at her hands, fingers tracing the rim of her glass. "I didn't know if I should come. I wasn't sure if this was a good idea."
Hex swallowed. "I didn't expect you to reply at all."
Hazel's eyes lifted, soft but guarded. "Your message felt… different. Honest. I could tell you weren't trying to pull me back into anything unhealthy."
Hex's chest tightened. "I wasn't. I'm not."
She nodded slowly, taking a sip of her lemonade. "Good."
The silence that followed wasn't heavy this time. It was reflective—two people sitting with the truth instead of running from it.
Hazel finally spoke again. "You know… when I walked away, it wasn't because I hated you. I just felt like we were hurting each other. And I didn't want to watch either of us fall deeper into something that wasn't good for our souls."
Hex's throat tightened. "I know. I see that now. Back then… I didn't understand. I thought you were just done with me."
Hazel shook her head gently. "I cared about you too much to stay in something that was destroying us."
Her words hit him harder than he expected. He looked down at the bread in his hands, his voice low. "I've been trying to fix myself. Really fix myself. I've been reading, praying, learning how to be a better man. Not for you. Not for anyone. For me."
Hazel's expression softened. "I can tell. You seem… calmer. More grounded."
Hex let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. "I'm trying."
Hazel reached for another piece of bread, her fingers brushing the edge of the plate. "I'm glad you're healing, Hex. You deserve that."
He looked up, meeting her eyes. "You helped me more than you know. Even when you walked away."
Hazel blinked, her lashes trembling slightly. "I just wanted you to be okay."
Their eyes held for a moment—quiet, emotional, honest.
No lust.
No tension.
Just two people acknowledging the truth of what they were… and what they weren't.
Hazel took a slow sip of her lemonade, her eyes drifting toward the candle flickering between them. Something softened in her expression, like she was gathering courage.
"Hex…" she began quietly, "there are things I've tried not to think about. Things I pushed away because I didn't want to fall back into old habits."
Hex listened, steady and attentive.
Hazel continued, her voice gentle. "I miss the way you used to be tender with me. The small things. The way you'd hold me like I mattered… the way you'd show affection without saying a word. I didn't realize how much those moments meant until they were gone."
Her eyes glimmered—not with lust, but with nostalgia and vulnerability.
"It wasn't the physical part I missed," she clarified softly. "It was the feeling of being cared for. The gentleness. The warmth. The way you made me feel safe for a moment."
Hex's chest tightened. He hadn't expected her to open up like that.
He leaned forward slightly, his voice low but sincere. "Hazel… I miss your affection too. Not the reckless stuff. Not the things that hurt us. I miss the way you'd rest your head on my shoulder. The way you'd laugh and nudge me when I said something dumb. The way you'd look at me like you saw something good in me—even when I didn't."
Hazel's lips curved into a faint, emotional smile.
"I did see something good in you," she whispered.
Hex nodded. "And I'm trying to become the man you saw."
The air between them shifted—gentle, warm, honest. Not dangerous. Not lustful. Just two people acknowledging the parts of their connection that were real, meaningful, and worth remembering.
Hazel brushed a curl behind her ear. "I'm glad we're talking like this."
"Me too," Hex said. "It feels… right."
The waiter returned balancing two steaming plates, the aroma of garlic and cream drifting through the air.
"Chicken fettuccine Alfredo for the lady," he said, placing the dish gently in front of Hazel, "and the lasagna for you, sir."
Hex nodded in thanks. Hazel smiled politely. The waiter disappeared into the soft hum of the restaurant, leaving them alone again—but this time, the air felt lighter.
Hazel twirled her fork into the pasta, lifting a generous bite. The sauce clung to the noodles, rich and creamy. She took a big bite—too big, maybe—and Hex watched her chew with a kind of quiet amusement.
Then he saw it.
A streak of Alfredo sauce curved around her mouth… then another… and another. It looked almost like a clown smile—white, creamy, and completely unintentional.
Hex tried to hold it in. He really did.
But a laugh slipped out—sharp, sudden, and completely uncontrollable.
Hazel blinked. "What? What's funny?"
Hex covered his mouth, shoulders shaking. "Hazel… you… uh… you might want to check your face."
She frowned, confused, and reached into her purse. Out came a tiny mirror with a soft pink frame. She angled it toward her face—
—and froze.
Then she burst out laughing.
"Oh my gosh!" she said between giggles. "Why didn't you tell me sooner? I look like I lost a fight with the Alfredo!"
Hex wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. "I didn't want to ruin the moment. You were enjoying it too much."
Hazel grabbed a napkin and wiped her mouth, still laughing. "I swear, you always catch me at my worst."
Hex shook his head. "Nah. That was adorable."
Hazel raised an eyebrow. "Adorable? Looking like a pasta clown is adorable?"
"Absolutely," Hex said, smirking. "Ten out of ten. Would watch again."
She playfully nudged his foot under the table. "You're ridiculous."
"And you're messy," he shot back.
They both laughed—real, warm laughter that filled the space between them like sunlight. For a moment, the heaviness of their past faded. No tension. No guilt. Just two people sharing a silly, human moment over pasta and bread.
Hazel took another careful bite, this time checking her napkin immediately. "Okay, now I'm paranoid."
Hex grinned. "Don't worry. I'll let you know if you start looking like a mime again."
Hazel rolled her eyes, but her smile was bright. "Deal."
And just like that, the evening shifted—softened—into something that felt almost like old times, but healthier, gentler, and full of possibility.