After that day, coffee became a quiet habit.
Not every day.
Not planned.
But somehow, they kept meeting.
Sometimes it was just five minutes.
Sometimes longer.
Daniel never forced conversations.
He never asked questions she wasn't ready to answer.
And Maya noticed that.
He didn't try to fix her.
He just stayed.
One evening, they sat on a bench near the park.
The sky was fading into soft shades of orange and gray.
People walked past them.
Some laughing.
Some holding hands.
Maya used to hate seeing things like that.
It reminded her of everything she lost.
But today…
It didn't hurt as much.
"You're quiet today," Daniel said gently.
"I'm usually quiet."
He smiled softly.
"No. You're usually silent. Today, you look like you're thinking."
She looked down at her hands.
"I forgot what it feels like," she whispered.
"What?"
"To feel normal."
Daniel didn't answer immediately.
He didn't interrupt her moment.
He let her speak.
"I used to be different," she continued.
"I used to believe in things."
Her voice didn't break.
But her eyes did.
Daniel looked at her carefully.
Not with pity.
With understanding.
"You don't have to tell me anything," he said.
"I know," she replied.
And that was the difference.
He wasn't asking.
He wasn't demanding.
He was giving her space.
And space felt like respect.
For the first time in a long time—
She didn't feel weak.
She felt safe.
Safe enough to exist without pretending.
Safe enough to breathe without pressure.
Safe enough to be broken.
The wind moved softly around them.
Neither of them spoke for a while.
But silence didn't feel heavy.
It felt peaceful.
And Maya realized something that scared her.
She was getting used to him.
Not in a dependent way.
But in a way her heart hadn't felt in a long time.
And that scared her.
Because the last time she felt safe with someone—
She lost everything.