I stayed silent, my grip tightening around myself as if that alone could keep everything from spilling out.
Ro took my silence for what it was an answer without words.
"So they’re asleep..." he said quietly, more to himself than to . His shoulders sagged, like the tension he’d been holding had finally found sowhere to rest. "I won’t wake them. I swear."
"That’s not the point," I said, forcing my voice to stay steady. "You shouldn’t even be thinking about them."
His brows drew together, confusion flickering across his face before sothing darker settled in. "You keep saying that," he murmured. "Like you’re trying to keep them away from .
My heart stuttered.
"I am.." I said simply.
The porch light humd faintly above us.
Ro shifted his weight, rocking slightly on his heels like he didn’t quite know where to place himself.
"Sylvia," he said softly, using my na like it ant more than just a sound. "I’m not here to take anything from you."
I almost laughed.
"You don’t get to decide that," I said, eting his gaze fully now. "You never did."
The words landed, putting tension between us. His jaw tightened, and for a mont I thought he might argue. That familiar Ro, the one who always had an answer, always knew how to steer things back in his favor—hovered just beneath the surface.
But it didn’t co.
Instead, he exhaled slowly. "You’re right," he admitted. "I don’t. That’s why I’m standing here instead of knocking on your door."
I glanced at the door behind , at the thin wall separating us from the children. Cairo’s small cough echoed faintly from inside, and instinctively my body angled toward the house, shielding it without even realizing it.
Ro noticed.
His eyes followed my movent.
Sothing unreadable crossed his expression, sothing that made my chest tighten despite myself.
"You’ve changed so much.." he said quietly.
"So have you.." I replied.
A corner of his mouth twitched, but there was no humor in it. "Yeah. I guess I have."
We stood there like that, two people circling words neither of us dared to say.
The afternoon air grew cooler, brushing against my arms, but I barely felt it. All my focus was on him—on the way his hands flexed inside his pockets, on the tension in his shoulders, on the way his eyes kept drifting back to the house like it held answers he wasn’t allowed to ask for yet.
"I won’t stay long," he said finally. "I promise."
"That’s not reassuring." I said.
A ghost of a smile appeared.
"I know."
He hesitated, then took a small step back, putting a bit more space between us. The gesture surprised more than if he had moved closer.
"I just needed to see you," he repeated. "To know you’re still here, that you not leaving is real. That I didn’t imagine everything..."
I froze, my fists clenching at my sides. We were the sa. I also felt like I was still trapped in a dream, and having Ro here wasn’t helping at all.
"Y-you’ve seen now, and this is all real," I said. "Now you can go."
"I could," he agreed. "But I don’t want to."
Of course he didn’t.
"Ro... don’t start with ," I warned through gritted teeth. I couldn’t face him. Please—not now.
He lifted his hands slightly, palms open. "I’m not asking to co inside. I’m not asking for answers tonight. I just..." His voice faltered, and that alone made my breath catch. "I need to know if my presence still matters to you—even just a little."
A heavy silence hung between us.
I looked away.
Once, long ago, the answer would have co easily. Once, I would have crossed the space between us without thinking, wrapped my arms around him, let him pull close, let him decide what ca next.
But that version of didn’t exist anymore.
"You mattered before," I said carefully. "But I can’t rember all that now. It’s all in the past now."
He flinched as if I’d struck him.
"I figured you’d say that," he murmured. "Doesn’t an it doesn’t hurt."
"That’s not my responsibility." I said, even as guilt twisted sharply in my chest.
"I know," he said again. "But it still hurts."
Silence settled once more. I didn’t know why, but the silence between us made my entire body tense instinctively.
Ro glanced past my house, and I caught the sadness that crossed his eyes.
"Are they okay?" he asked softly.
"Yes," I answered too quickly that it surprised even . "T-they’re fine."
"T-that’s good to know..." The words slipped out before he could stop them.
My heart slamd violently.
I stared at him, every instinct screaming at to shut this down, to end this conversation before it went sowhere I couldn’t control.
He studied my face, eyes sharp despite the exhaustion weighing them down.
I swallowed. "Y-you should leave now... please. Just leave. Now."
He stayed quiet, looking at like he was searching for sothing in my eyes. I imdiately looked away, afraid he might see straight through .
Another pause.
Then, unexpectedly, he let out a soft, humorless laugh. "You know what’s funny?"
I didn’t answer.
"I spent years telling myself I’d moved on," he continued. "That whatever we had ended for a reason. I built a life around that idea. Made plans. Followed them."
His gaze flicked briefly to the sky, then back to . "And then I saw you again, and suddenly none of it felt real."
I clenched my jaw.
"That’s not my fault. And please stop saying nonsense—just leave already.." I said.
But instead of stopping, Ro looked at with quiet pain in his eyes.
"I’m not blaming you," he replied. "I’m blaming myself."
That caught off guard.
"I d-don’t understand why you’re saying that. It’s too late for this," I said, forcing myself to look unaffected.
Calm down, Sylvia. He’s just trying to sway you.
"Yeah... I know," he said quietly. "I just want you to know that I thought I had everything under control. For thinking I could lose you once—and survive it again."
The honesty in his voice made my chest ache.
"Ro," I said more softly, "you can’t say things like that."
"Why?" he asked. "Because it makes you uncomfortable? Or because it makes you rember?"
I didn’t answer.
"I won’t push," he said again. "I swear. Just... don’t completely push away, because it’s hurting . It’s hurting deeply."
Even though his voice weakened toward the end, his words were painfully clear.
I looked away. I didn’t want to hear that from him. He wasn’t even sorry—not really—yet he was hurting? He had no right. He wasn’t there when I was hurting the most.
So why couldn’t I stand seeing him like this?
I turned my gaze back to the door behind , to my locked house, to the life waiting on the other side.
"I don’t want to hear this anymore," I said quietly. "Please just go ho. You’re wasting your ti here. And if there’s anyone who should hear how you’re hurting, it’s the family waiting for you at ho."
"I-I’m sorry... I shouldn’t have said that," he replied. "I was just scared that if I didn’t tell you now, I’d never get the chance again. I already expected that you’d hate ."
"Tsk. You’re talking too much.." I muttered, trying to stay calm before my emotions broke loose.
His gaze sharpened instantly.
"Y-yeah... thank you for your ti.." he murmured.
I cursed myself silently.
"This doesn’t an anything," I said quickly. "It doesn’t change anything."
"I know," he replied. "But seeing you still ans sothing to ."
Before I could respond, a soft voice drifted from inside the house, Paris, sleepy and small.
"Mom...?"
Every nerve in my body went on high alert.
I turned halfway toward the door without thinking. "I’m here," I called softly. "Go back to sleep."
A pause. Then faint footsteps. Silence again.
When I turned back, Ro was staring at , sothing deep and unnaable in his eyes.
"... is it Egypt?" he repeated under his breath.
My stomach dropped.
"No," I said quickly. "It’s Paris."
"Paris and Egypt... even now I still can’t tell them apart.." he said gently, letting out a heavy chuckle.
I felt the weight in his tone especially in his laugh and suddenly I felt cornered.
"P-Paris is more mature for her age," I said without thinking. "And Egypt—she’s the energetic one. But they’re both sweet and kind."
I froze.
I hadn’t ant to say that. It always slipped out whenever soone asked—but I hadn’t ant to say it to him.
He nodded slowly. "Yeah," he said. "They are."
Sothing shifted then, not just in him, but in .
I realized, with sudden clarity, that this mont was inevitable. That no matter how many boundaries I set, how carefully I planned, Ro would keep circling the truth until he found it.
And when he did—
I wasn’t sure any of us would co out unscathed.
"I need you to leave..now" I said quietly.
His eyes searched my face, trying to read sothing I was desperately hiding.
"Okay," he said. "I’ll leave. But please—don’t leave again. Don’t run away."
"I’m not leaving," I replied. "I don’t have anywhere left to run."
He hesitated, then nodded. "Okay."
He took a step back, then another, creating distance even as his gaze stayed locked on mine.
"I won’t disappear either," he said. "Even if you want to."
"I don’t care whether you disappear," I snapped. "Just leave already."
A sad smile curved his lips. "Okay," he agreed. "I’ll leave now. But I’ll co back again soon."
He turned slowly, as if giving ti to stop him.
I didn’t.
At the edge of the darkening street, he paused.
"S-Sylvia?"
"What now?"
"Please wait for ," he said quietly. "I’ll co back. I hope next ti... you’ll open your heart enough to talk to ."
My throat tightened.
"That’s far from happening.." I replied.
He looked back one last ti, eyes dark and unreadable.
"Okay. I’ll wait for that ti."
Then he walked away, his figure slowly swallowed by the dim streetlight.
I stood there long after he was gone, heart pounding, thoughts tangled and loud.
Inside, the house was still quiet.
I closed the door softly behind and leaned against it, pressing my forehead to the cold wood.
"This can’t happen..." I whispered to the empty room.
But deep down, I already knew—
It already was.
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