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The knock on the door came exactly on time. Angela had been watching the oven clock for the last twenty minutes, pretending she hadn't. Pretending she hadn't straightened the cushions on the couch twice or nervously rearranged Spork’s food bowls so the blue one was on the left. He liked it that way. Or at least he used to.
She opened the door and there she was. Amanda. Same soft jaw, same tired eyes, same hand resting on the strap of the overnight bag slung over her shoulder like it didn't carry the weight of five years together and six months apart.
“Hey,” Amanda said.
“Hey,” Angela echoed.
Between them stood Spork. Well, stood might've been generous. He wobbled, then immediately plopped down on the welcome mat, tongue hanging out like a little white flag of exhaustion.
“He walked the whole block today,” Amanda said, crouching to scoop him up. “But that last step really did him in.”
Angela reached for him without thinking. Her arms were already out before Amanda even moved to hand him over. Spork snorted as he settled against her chest.
“Hi, buddy,” Angela whispered. “You ready to be a little roommate again?”
He sneezed in response.
Angela stepped aside to let Amanda in, heart beating somewhere up near her ears.
The apartment looked almost the same as it had the day Amanda left. Clean but lived in. A few extra plants by the window now, a new bowl on the counter from some overpriced cereal box. The couch still sagged a little too far to the left if you sat wrong. She hadn't fixed it. Maybe she never would.
“You can take the bed,” Amanda said, glancing around like she was a guest and not someone who used to brush her teeth in this bathroom and throw her socks on that rug.
Angela shook her head. “Spork sleeps best with you. He likes your heartbeat better. I’ll take the couch.”
Amanda frowned but didn’t argue. She just dropped her bag next to the coat rack and let out a long breath like she’d been holding it since she got in the car.
They stood there a second too long, both pretending they weren’t still memorizing each other.
Angela set Spork down on his dog bed, the one with the tiny tacos. He immediately flopped to his side and started snoring like a chainsaw in a teacup.
“So,” Amanda said. “We’re doing this.”
Angela nodded. “For him.”
Amanda gave a small smile. “For him.”
Angela watched her ex disappear down the hallway, into what used to be their bedroom. The door didn’t close all the way. It never had.
She sat on the couch, pulled the blanket over her legs, and stared at the ceiling. She’d agreed to this. She said yes because Spork deserved a peaceful chapter. But no one warned her that living with Amanda again would feel like opening a book she’d already cried through.
Spork’s snores rattled softly from across the room.
One night. That was the deal.
Just one night at a time.
Angela woke up alone on the couch, her neck sore and her mouth dry. The blanket had slipped to the floor sometime in the night, and her back ached from the awkward way she had twisted to avoid the sag in the middle cushion. She sat up slowly, blinking against the morning light coming through the blinds.
The apartment was quiet.
Too quiet.
She walked toward the bedroom, bare feet brushing against the hardwood floor. The door was cracked open. Amanda was still asleep, curled on her side with one arm draped across Spork’s tiny body. He was nestled into the middle of the bed like a king, his tongue hanging out in his usual crooked way.
Angela stayed in the doorway.
There was something about the way Amanda’s hand rested on Spork’s back. Something soft. Something too familiar. It pulled at a part of Angela that she had spent months trying to leave alone.
She watched them for a moment, then turned away.
Back in the kitchen, she made coffee. She poured two mugs without thinking. One with oat milk. One black. She stood at the counter, holding her cup with both hands, and stared out the window without seeing anything at all.
The floor creaked behind her.
“Morning,” Amanda said quietly.
Angela turned. “Morning. Did Spork sleep alright?”
Amanda nodded. She walked in wearing that oversized hoodie Angela used to steal when she wanted attention. Her hair was pulled up and her eyes still held that soft blur of sleep. “He snored like a chainsaw. But yeah. He was happy.”
Angela smiled into her mug. “Figures. He missed your heartbeat.”
Amanda glanced at the second coffee cup, then picked it up without asking. “You remembered.”
“Of course I did.”
They sat at the table without speaking for a while. The clink of spoons and the faint buzz of the refrigerator filled the space between them. Spork wandered in eventually and flopped at Amanda’s feet with a groan like he had done something exhausting. Like sleeping next to someone he loved had taken everything out of him.
Angela looked down at him and then up at Amanda. “Want to take him for a walk?”
Amanda met her eyes. “Yeah. I’ll get his jacket.”
Angela nodded, finishing the last sip of her coffee. As Amanda walked past her, their shoulders brushed. Just barely. But enough to remember.
Just enough to hurt.
Spork refused to wear his jacket. Angela tried once, twice, then gave up and carried it instead. He waddled proudly down the sidewalk like he had something to prove, tongue out, tail wagging, body slightly crooked but determined.
Amanda walked beside her in silence, hands stuffed into her pockets. The morning was cool and gray, the kind of weather that clung to your clothes and made everything feel softer, heavier.
“He still refuses to pee in the same spot twice,” Amanda said, finally breaking the quiet.
Angela smiled. “He thinks variety keeps life interesting.”
They turned the corner, past the bakery they used to stop at on Sundays. The owner’s daughter used to give Spork bits of croissant behind the counter. That girl was probably in college now. Everything kept moving forward, even when you wanted it to stay still.
“I almost forgot how slow he walks,” Amanda said.
Angela glanced down at Spork, who had stopped completely to sniff a leaf. “I think he just likes making us wait.”
“He always did.”
They stood in front of the leaf for a good thirty seconds before Spork moved on.
Angela hesitated. “You said something yesterday. At breakfast.”
Amanda’s shoulders tensed slightly. “Yeah?”
“You said I kept us from falling apart.”
Amanda nodded. “I meant it.”
Angela chewed on the inside of her cheek. “Why didn’t you help me?”
Amanda stopped walking.
Spork kept going, dragging the leash until it pulled taut.
“I didn’t know how,” Amanda said, voice quiet. “I kept thinking if I just gave you space, if I worked harder, if I stopped needing so much from you... you’d come back to me.”
Angela stared at her.
“I never left,” she said.
Amanda laughed under her breath, bitter and soft. “Maybe not out loud. But you were gone, Ang. You were here, but you were somewhere else. Somewhere I couldn’t reach.”
Angela looked away.
Spork barked once, short and high, as if to remind them he was still here and frankly very bored.
They started walking again, slowly this time.
Angela kicked a pebble across the sidewalk. “I was tired. Not of you. Just... everything. Work. Life. The pressure. I didn’t know how to say I needed help without feeling like I was failing.”
“I would’ve helped,” Amanda said.
“I know.”
They reached the little park at the end of the street. Spork sniffed every blade of grass like it held the secrets of the universe. Angela sat on the bench. Amanda sat beside her.
“I’m in therapy now,” Angela said.
Amanda looked at her. “Yeah?”
Angela nodded. “Been going for a couple months. My therapist keeps asking why I never let anyone see when I’m not okay. I still don’t have a good answer.”
Amanda looked at her for a long time.
“You don’t have to always be okay,” she said. “You never did. I just wish I had said that louder.”
Spork climbed onto Amanda’s lap without warning and promptly fell asleep.
Angela watched them.
The city moved around them. Cars passed, birds chirped, a kid on a scooter nearly ran over someone’s foot. But for a few minutes, nothing touched them.
Angela rested her hand on the bench, close to Amanda’s. Not touching. Not yet.
Just close enough.
They got back to the apartment just after ten. Spork was already half asleep in Amanda’s arms by the time they reached the front steps. His head lolled to the side like he had been sedated, his tongue sticking out like he had given up on pretending to care about dignity.
Angela unlocked the door and held it open as Amanda carried him inside.
“I think he might be part possum,” Amanda said. “He goes limp the second I pick him up.”
“He knows you will carry him,” Angela said. “He has no incentive to walk ever again.”
Amanda placed him gently on the couch, where he immediately curled into the throw blanket Angela had slept under the night before. He let out one small snore and did not move again.
Angela poured herself another cup of coffee. Amanda leaned against the kitchen counter and watched her, arms crossed, eyes distant.
“He looks good,” Amanda said.
Angela glanced back at the couch. “Yeah. Better than last month. The meds help.”
“He still not eating much?”
Angela hesitated. “Some days are better than others. He likes those expensive little chicken packets. The ones that cost more than my lunch.”
Amanda smiled, but it did not quite reach her eyes.
“I can start helping with that. Food, vet stuff. I mean... since I’m here.”
Angela nodded slowly. “You don’t have to. I’ve got it.”
“I want to,” Amanda said, her voice firmer this time. “He’s mine too.”
Angela looked up. Something in her chest tightened.
“Okay,” she said. “Thank you.”
They stood there for a moment, the kitchen buzzing softly with the hum of the fridge and the creak of the pipes in the walls. Everything in the apartment felt familiar. But not safe. Not yet.
Amanda broke the silence. “You remember that weekend in Vermont? When he got into that bag of marshmallows and threw up on your sweater?”
Angela laughed, covering her mouth. “Oh my God. I forgot about that.”
“You screamed. Like full body screamed.”
“I loved that sweater,” Angela said. “It was my favorite.”
“You still kept it.”
Angela raised an eyebrow. “You went through my closet?”
“I was looking for socks. And I was curious.”
Angela took a sip of her coffee. “Still smells like sugar and regret.”
Amanda grinned, then looked down at her hands.
“Do you ever think about it?” she asked. “Back then?”
Angela set her cup down. “All the time.”
Amanda nodded.
“I thought we would get married,” she said quietly. “I pictured it. You and me. Spork in a little bow tie.”
Angela’s throat went tight. She looked away.
“Yeah,” she whispered. “Me too.”
Amanda let out a long breath and stepped away from the counter. She walked toward the window, arms wrapped around herself. Angela watched her, heart pounding.
“I still love you,” Amanda said, so quietly it almost got lost in the hum of the apartment.
Angela blinked.
She looked at Spork, asleep and dreaming with his legs twitching like he was running across a field he would never reach. She looked at Amanda’s reflection in the window. The soft curve of her back, the way she still stood like she was ready to run.
Angela wanted to close the distance.
She wanted to tell her she still loved her too.
But the words caught in her throat.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t say it then,” Amanda added. “I just didn’t know how to reach you. And it scared me. You scared me, because I loved you so much I didn’t know who I was without you.”
Angela took a step forward.
“I’m still scared,” Amanda said. “But I think I’d rather be scared with you than safe without you.”
Angela reached her.
She rested her hand lightly on Amanda’s back.
Angela did not say anything.
She just stood there, her hand on Amanda’s back, feeling the rise and fall of her breath. Amanda stayed still, eyes fixed on the window like she could make sense of everything if she stared hard enough.
The moment stretched between them, quiet and full.
Spork let out a loud, guttural snore from the couch. It broke the silence like a dropped glass, and both women laughed at the same time. Too sharp. Too sudden. But real.
Angela stepped back first.
Amanda turned around, eyes red but dry. She did not wipe them. She just looked at Angela like she was trying to memorize her again.
“I think I’m gonna take a shower,” Amanda said softly.
Angela nodded. “Okay. I’ll feed Spork.”
Amanda started toward the bathroom, then paused. “I meant what I said.”
Angela swallowed. “I know.”
Amanda disappeared down the hall. The bathroom door closed with that same gentle creak it always had.
Angela stood there for a second longer, then walked back to the couch. Spork had not moved. His tiny body was curled into the blanket, face smashed against the pillow, tongue stuck out and slightly twitching with every breath. He looked like a little gremlin in the middle of a dream.
Angela knelt beside him and brushed a hand over his head.
“You’re a traitor,” she whispered. “You love her more than me.”
Spork made a soft noise in response, somewhere between a sigh and a snort.
Angela smiled. Then she stood up, went to the kitchen, and opened the cabinet where she kept his food. She pulled out one of the expensive chicken packets and peeled it open.
As soon as the smell hit the air, Spork lifted his head like he had been summoned by a divine force.
“Miracle recovery,” Angela muttered, grabbing his bowl.
She poured the food in, set it down, and watched as he waddled over to it with all the urgency of a man going to war. She leaned against the counter and watched him eat, mind still stuck in the living room, in the reflection of Amanda’s face in the glass.
The sound of the shower started.
Angela closed her eyes.
For a second, it was like nothing had changed. Like Amanda was just in the other room because she had always been there, because they lived here together, because this was still their life.
But it wasn’t. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
And still, something in her stirred. Something that had been buried under months of silence, under heartbreak, under late nights of staring at the ceiling and wondering how they got here.
Angela did the dishes while Amanda was in the shower. She wiped the counters. She cleaned the coffee mugs. She swept up the trail of crumbs that Spork had left by the couch.
When Amanda returned, her hair wet and the sleeves of her hoodie pushed up, Angela was sitting at the table with her laptop open but not typing anything.
Amanda sat across from her. Neither of them said anything for a moment.
Spork climbed into Amanda’s lap again, the picture of loyalty and poor boundaries.
Angela looked at her.
“Do you want to stay?” she asked.
Amanda blinked.
“Here?” she said.
Angela nodded.
Amanda looked down at Spork, then back at Angela.
“For how long?”
Angela hesitated.
“I don’t know,” she said. “But I want you here. If you want to be.”
Amanda looked like she was holding her breath. Then she let it out all at once and gave the smallest, saddest smile Angela had ever seen.
“I do,” she said.
Spork sneezed dramatically and then farted so loudly that Amanda nearly dropped him.
Angela snorted into her hands.
Amanda wheezed. “He really has no shame.”
“None,” Angela said. “He is your son.”
Amanda leaned back in her chair, cradling Spork like he was made of something breakable.
“Guess we’re really doing this,” she said.
They fell back into the rhythm like they never left it.
It started with the little things. Angela would pour two cups of coffee instead of one. Amanda would rinse out the dog bowl before Angela could. One would start the laundry, and the other would finish it. No one asked. No one planned it. It just happened.
Spork adjusted quickly. He began sleeping in the bed again, curled between Amanda’s legs, his little body radiating heat like a space heater with a heartbeat. He followed them both around the apartment, demanding attention from whichever one was closer. He refused to eat unless someone sat beside him and told him he was doing a good job.
Angela was the one who cracked first.
One night, Amanda was sitting on the couch with her legs tucked under her, half watching a movie and half scrolling through her phone. Angela came out of the shower with damp hair and a loose shirt, still toweling off the ends.
She walked past the couch and then doubled back.
“You doing okay?” she asked.
Amanda looked up. “Yeah. Just tired.”
Angela nodded, but her eyes lingered.
Amanda noticed.
“You wanna sit?”
Angela hesitated, then dropped onto the far end of the couch. Spork immediately abandoned Amanda’s lap in favor of curling up next to Angela, tongue already hanging out in blissful sleep.
Angela scratched behind his ears, not looking at Amanda.
Amanda turned the volume down on the TV.
“This is weird, right?” she asked quietly.
Angela looked over.
“This. Us. This apartment. Spork. All of it. It feels like we never left but also like... I don’t know. Like I am still waiting for something to go wrong.”
Angela ran her hand down Spork’s back. He let out a tiny snore in response.
“It does feel weird,” she said. “But not bad. Just... not normal yet.”
Amanda nodded slowly. “You know what scared me the most when we broke up?”
Angela turned to her.
“I thought I would stop missing you eventually,” Amanda said. “But I didn’t. Not for a single day. Even when I was mad. Even when I told myself it was for the best.”
Angela swallowed hard.
“I missed you too,” she said. “But I was so sure I had ruined everything. I didn’t think I deserved to miss you.”
Amanda stared at her.
Angela looked away first.
“I met someone,” Amanda said.
Angela froze.
Amanda kept going, her voice calm but careful. “It didn’t last. A few weeks. She was nice. Funny. Smart. But I kept comparing her to you. Which wasn’t fair to her. Or you. Or me.”
Angela nodded slowly. “I haven’t dated anyone. Not since you.”
“I figured.”
Angela glanced up. “How?”
“Because you still have my sweater in your closet,” Amanda said. “And because you don’t flirt with the barista who’s been writing little hearts on your coffee cup for like three months.”
Angela blinked. “How do you know about that?”
Amanda shrugged. “I stalked your social media once. Sue me.”
Angela shook her head, smiling despite herself. “You are ridiculous.”
Amanda reached out, slowly, resting her hand near Angela’s on the couch.
Not touching.
Just close.
Angela looked down at it.
“I’m not asking for everything,” Amanda said. “I know we have a lot to figure out. But if we’re going to do this... I don’t want to pretend anymore.”
Angela turned her palm up and let Amanda’s fingers slide into hers.
“I don’t want to pretend either.”
Spork shifted in his sleep and let out the loudest, most offensive fart Angela had ever heard.
Amanda broke into laughter first. Angela followed a second later, both of them bent over, wheezing like kids at a sleepover.
When the laughter faded, they stayed like that, holding hands.
Angela made tea that night.
Not because she wanted any. She just remembered the way Amanda always drank it when she could not sleep. Mint with honey. Two teaspoons, not stirred. She found the exact mug Amanda used to call her lucky one. The chipped one with the faded stars and a handle just a little too small.
She set it down on the table in front of Amanda, who looked up from her laptop and blinked like she had forgotten she was even awake.
“You made this?”
Angela nodded. “Thought you could use it.”
Amanda stared at the mug, then at Angela.
“Thank you,” she said quietly.
Angela shrugged and sat across from her.
The room was quiet except for the gentle hum of the fridge and Spork’s breathing from his bed in the corner. He had claimed a small throw blanket and turned it into his personal throne, snoring softly with his paws curled under his chest.
Amanda took a sip of the tea, closed her eyes for a moment, then looked at Angela again.
“You always knew how to take care of me,” she said. “Even when we were a mess.”
Angela looked down at her hands.
“I just didn’t know how to take care of myself at the same time.”
Amanda reached across the table, her fingers brushing Angela’s.
“I know,” she said.
Angela looked up.
Amanda’s eyes were tired. Not sad. Just full. Like she had been carrying something for a long time and was finally letting someone else hold it.
“I didn’t realize how much I hurt you until after,” Amanda said. “And by then it felt too late. I kept thinking, if I called, if I showed up, you’d slam the door in my face.”
Angela smiled, faint and hollow. “I thought the same thing.”
Amanda let out a breath that sounded like it had been stuck in her chest for months.
“I don’t want to waste more time,” she said.
Angela did not speak. She just reached for Amanda’s hand and held it, their fingers curling together slowly, like they were remembering how to do it.
They sat there for a while.
Just holding hands.
Just breathing.
Angela wanted to kiss her.
But she didn’t.
Not yet.
Instead, she stood up and picked up the mugs. She rinsed them carefully, dried them with the soft towel Amanda had insisted on buying because it “felt like a cloud,” and set them back on the shelf.
When she turned around, Amanda was standing behind her.
Close.
Closer than before.
Angela swallowed.
Amanda reached up and touched her face gently, fingers brushing her cheekbone.
“You don’t have to say anything,” Amanda whispered.
Angela leaned in before she could think about it.
The kiss was soft. Careful. Familiar and unfamiliar all at once.
Amanda’s hand slid into Angela’s hair.
Angela held her waist like she was afraid she might disappear.
They kissed like they were remembering.
Like they were starting over.
When they finally pulled apart, Amanda pressed her forehead to Angela’s and closed her eyes.
“I don’t want to rush anything,” she said.
“I don’t either,” Angela whispered. “But I don’t want to lose this again.”
“You won’t.”
In the corner of the room, Spork let out a loud groan and rolled dramatically onto his side, legs stiff in protest.
Angela laughed against Amanda’s cheek.
“He is gonna make this so complicated,” she said.
Amanda smiled. “He always did.”
They kissed again.
Angela turned off the living room light and waited.
Spork stared back at her from the hallway.
He did not move.
She pointed toward the bedroom.
“Go on,” she said. “Bedtime.”
Spork sat down.
Angela crossed her arms. “You literally just fell asleep on Amanda’s foot. You are clearly tired.”
He blinked.
“Fine,” she muttered, stepping toward him.
He stood up and shuffled three steps toward the bedroom. Then stopped again. His tongue lolled out of his mouth like punctuation.
Angela followed.
Spork stood in the doorway and looked pointedly at the empty bed. Then at Angela.
Then back at the bed.
Angela sighed. “She’ll be here in a minute.”
He did not move.
Angela rubbed her face with both hands. “Seriously?”
He gave a short whine and turned in a slow circle. Then sat down again.
Angela crouched next to him. “She’s brushing her teeth. She’ll be right here. You can go ahead and settle in.”
Spork let out the most dramatic huff she had ever heard.
“You are such a little drama sponge,” she whispered.
Amanda’s voice came from behind her. “Is he protesting again?”
Angela turned.
Amanda stood in the hall in one of her old shirts, hair brushed, bare feet quiet on the floor.
“He won’t move until you do,” Angela said.
Amanda walked past them both and climbed into the bed. She pulled back the blanket and patted the space beside her.
Spork immediately stood up and launched himself onto the mattress with more energy than he had displayed all day. He spun in a full circle, flopped into the middle of the bed, and let out a satisfied sigh.
Angela stared at him.
“He was stalling,” she said.
Amanda shrugged. “He likes what he likes.”
Angela lingered by the doorway.
Amanda looked up. “You can stay. If you want.”
Angela hesitated.
Then she walked to the other side of the bed and sat down slowly, not pulling the blanket up yet.
Amanda lay back against the pillow. Spork stretched out across both of them like a barricade.
They stayed like that for a few seconds.
Then Angela slid under the covers.
Her shoulder brushed Amanda’s.
Amanda did not move away.
Spork let out a contented grunt and settled deeper into the mattress.
Angela stared at the ceiling.
“I didn’t expect this,” she said quietly.
Amanda turned her head. “What?”
“This. You. Us. Any of it.”
Amanda smiled, just a little. “Me either.”
They lay in silence for a while.
Angela reached out and rested her hand lightly on Spork’s back. Amanda did the same.
Their fingers touched in the middle.
Amanda woke up first.
The light coming in through the blinds was soft and hazy, the kind that always made her want to fall back asleep even when she could not afford to. Her body was warm, her mind still drifting in the fog between dreaming and remembering.
Spork was curled against her chest, his tiny legs tucked under, his face smushed into her pillow. His breath was warm and uneven, tongue sticking out like usual. Angela was beside him, her back to Amanda, hair a little messy, shoulder rising and falling in slow rhythm.
Amanda stayed still for a long time.
She knew she had to move.
She had work in an hour.
But she let herself enjoy the silence. The softness of it. The way everything felt still for once, like nothing outside the walls of this bedroom could reach her if she did not let it.
Then Angela stirred.
Spork grumbled and rolled halfway onto his back.
Amanda slipped out of bed gently, careful not to disturb either of them. She padded out to the kitchen and turned on the coffee pot. She moved slowly, quietly, making as little sound as possible. She did not want the spell to break.
She poured a mug, leaned against the counter, and watched the sunlight creep across the floor.
Angela appeared in the doorway a few minutes later, sleepy-eyed and wearing the oversized sweatshirt Amanda had kept in the bottom drawer for two years before giving it up during the move.
“You’re up early,” Angela said.
Amanda nodded. “I’ve got work.”
Angela rubbed at her face. “Right. I forgot what day it is.”
Amanda smiled a little. “It’s Thursday.”
Angela poured herself some coffee and stood beside Amanda at the counter.
Neither of them said much.
Amanda took slow sips, glancing now and then at Angela. The quiet between them was not tense. Just unsure. Like they were both afraid to say the wrong thing.
“I didn’t mean to crowd you last night,” Amanda said.
“You didn’t,” Angela said quickly.
Amanda looked at her. “Okay.”
They both looked toward the hallway where Spork was still snoring.
“He’s not gonna be happy when I leave,” Amanda said.
Angela gave a soft laugh. “You want me to distract him?”
Amanda nodded. “Yeah. Just for the first ten minutes. Then he’ll sulk and fall asleep on your shoe.”
Angela leaned her hip against the counter. “I can handle that.”
Amanda finished her coffee, rinsed her mug, and went to the bedroom to change. She came back out in slacks and a blouse, hair pulled back, her work bag slung over one shoulder.
Angela was on the floor with Spork, rubbing his belly.
Spork kicked his leg in approval and made a noise like a balloon deflating.
“You are embarrassing,” Amanda told him.
Spork sneezed in response.
Angela stood and brushed hair out of her face.
Amanda stepped closer.
“I’ll be home around six,” she said.
Angela nodded. “I’ll make dinner.”
Amanda blinked. “You don’t have to.”
“I want to.”
Amanda reached out and touched her arm, just briefly.
“Okay,” she said. “Thank you.”
Angela gave a small smile.
Spork whined.
Amanda crouched down and kissed the top of his head. Then, more carefully, she stood and kissed Angela on the cheek.
“I’ll see you tonight.”
Angela nodded. “Be safe.”
Amanda opened the door and stepped into the hall.
Angela watched it close behind her and stood there for a moment, the quiet pressing in on her chest like a question she did not know how to answer.
Behind her, Spork let out a long, mournful sigh.
Angela picked him up and held him close.
“She’s coming back,” she said softly.
Angela spent most of the morning cleaning.
Not in the frantic, anxious way she used to when things were falling apart. This was different. Calmer. She put on music, soft enough not to wake Spork, and moved through the apartment room by room.
She changed the sheets. She folded laundry. She emptied the dishwasher. She picked up three of Spork’s toys from under the couch and found two unmatched socks and one dried-up piece of dog food that had somehow fossilized into the floor.
Spork trailed her for the first hour, whining occasionally, then gave up and burrowed into a blanket on the couch. Angela placed a heating pad next to him and watched his eyes flutter shut.
She sat beside him for a while, one hand resting on his back, her thoughts drifting.
Amanda had kissed her last night.
Not a big kiss. Not full of fire or desperation.
But soft.
Intentional.
Like a promise they had not spoken out loud yet.
Angela had kissed her back.
Now Amanda was at work, probably in a meeting, probably typing emails or reading something boring at her desk while Angela sat here feeling like the floor beneath her had quietly shifted an inch to the left and no one had told her.
She tried to work for a bit, answering emails and reviewing edits on a pitch that was due next week. But her focus kept slipping.
Every time she glanced at the clock, it felt like it had not moved.
At four thirty, Spork woke up, walked to his bowl, sniffed it, and looked directly at Angela like she had personally failed him.
She laughed and opened one of the good chicken packets.
At five, she started dinner.
Nothing complicated. Pasta with mushrooms and garlic, a salad with whatever was left in the fridge, and the loaf of bread she had bought that morning because it looked pretty and she wanted to make things feel nice.
At five forty-five, she lit a candle.
At five fifty, she changed her shirt.
At six o'clock, the door opened.
Angela looked up from the stove, and there she was. Amanda.
Hair a little messy, bag slipping off her shoulder, that tired look in her eyes that Angela remembered better than her own reflection.
“Hi,” Amanda said, stepping inside.
“Hi,” Angela said, her voice softer than she meant it to be.
Amanda dropped her bag by the door and took a breath. The apartment smelled like garlic and rosemary. The lights were low. The table was set.
She froze for a second.
Angela wiped her hands on a towel. “It’s not a big deal. Just food.”
Amanda nodded, still standing in the doorway.
“I didn’t expect this,” she said.
Angela tilted her head. “Is it too much?”
“No,” Amanda said quickly. “It’s... perfect.”
Angela smiled.
Spork, ever the opportunist, ran toward Amanda like she had been gone for a year. She picked him up and kissed the top of his head.
“He gave me the silent treatment for an hour,” Angela said.
Amanda grinned. “He’s dramatic.”
“He gets it from you.”
Amanda set Spork down and walked into the kitchen. “This smells amazing.”
“I didn’t do anything fancy,” Angela said. “But I remembered you like the little mushrooms. Not the big ones.”
Amanda’s eyes flickered.
“I remember everything,” Angela added.
Amanda stepped a little closer.
Angela did not move.
They stood there for a second, the quiet stretching out between them again.
Then Amanda reached out and touched Angela’s hand.
Angela curled her fingers around hers.
Dinner was over. The plates were washed, Spork had eaten half a bread crust and passed out like he had run a marathon, and Amanda had finally changed into the soft sweatpants Angela used to steal when she was feeling clingy.
Now they were on the couch, the TV glowing in front of them, playing something neither of them was watching. A soft instrumental played beneath a slow scene involving people on a beach, but neither Amanda nor Angela could have said what the show was even called.
Angela sat cross-legged, nursing a glass of water, her eyes half-lidded and heavy from food and something softer. Amanda was stretched out beside her, legs extended, her upper body twisted slightly toward Angela like her body was leaning in without her even thinking about it.
Amanda groaned quietly and reached up to rub the back of her neck. The sound was small, but Angela’s eyes flicked toward her immediately.
“Long day?” Angela asked.
Amanda sighed. “My back is killing me. Sitting at a desk for nine hours should not feel like punishment, but here we are.”
Angela set her glass down. “Come here.”
Amanda blinked. “What?”
Angela shifted and patted the space in front of her. “Turn around. I’ll fix it.”
Amanda hesitated.
Angela raised an eyebrow. “You used to beg me for this every week.”
Amanda smirked and rolled her eyes. “Yeah, and you’d make me bribe you with chocolate.”
Angela shrugged. “I’m feeling generous tonight.”
Amanda turned and settled between Angela’s legs, her back facing her, her spine straight but tense.
Angela placed her hands lightly on Amanda’s shoulders.
She waited a beat.
Then she pressed in, slow and deliberate.
Amanda let out a low breath as Angela’s thumbs found the tight knots between her shoulder blades.
“You’re stiff,” Angela murmured.
“Gee, thanks.”
Angela leaned in a little more, letting her hands slide up the sides of Amanda’s neck, then down to the top of her back.
“You’re carrying everything in here,” she said softly.
“Yeah,” Amanda whispered. “I always do.”
Angela moved her hands down Amanda’s back, working carefully along each muscle, pausing when she felt the resistance, then easing into it with quiet patience. Amanda’s body responded slowly, softening under her touch.
For a few minutes, there was nothing but the sound of the television and Amanda’s quiet breathing.
Angela leaned in closer, her voice near Amanda’s ear.
“You used to fall asleep during these.”
“I’m trying not to,” Amanda said, her voice low. “But you’re making it difficult.”
Angela smiled and let her thumbs press gently into the space just below Amanda’s shoulder blades. Amanda let out a quiet sound, almost a sigh, and leaned into her touch.
“You always know exactly where it hurts,” Amanda murmured.
“I remember,” Angela said. Her hands slowed, resting lightly on Amanda’s sides. “I remember all of it.”
Amanda twisted slightly to look over her shoulder. Her eyes were tired, but warmer than they had been all day.
“Thank you,” she said. “That helped more than I want to admit.”
Angela smiled. “Good.”
They stayed like that for a moment. Amanda between her legs, Angela’s hands still resting on her waist, the air between them thick with something neither of them wanted to name too soon.
Then Amanda shifted, turning fully until she was facing Angela.
She looked at her like she was trying to decide something.
Angela didn’t say anything.
Amanda leaned forward slowly, her hands finding Angela’s knees, and rested her forehead against Angela’s.
Angela closed her eyes.
They stayed like that, foreheads pressed together, breathing each other in.
“I’m still scared,” Amanda said softly.
Angela nodded. “So am I.”
“But I’m here,” Amanda added. “I’m trying.”
Angela lifted her hand and tucked a piece of Amanda’s hair behind her ear. “I see that. I feel it.”
Spork, who had been asleep for the better part of an hour, suddenly stirred. He made a confused little groan, looked up at the two of them, and let out a long yawn.
Then he stood, stretched dramatically, and climbed up between them like he was personally offended that they had forgotten he existed.
Amanda laughed and leaned back, letting him climb into her lap.
Angela laughed too and scratched behind Spork’s ears.
“I guess we’re not allowed to have a moment without being supervised,” she said.
“He is the king of this house,” Amanda said. “We serve at his pleasure.”
Angela stood in the hallway with her arms crossed, listening to Spork cry.
Not just a whine. Not a groan or a sigh. Full-blown crying. Little yips that broke off into sniffly, tragic silence, followed by another round of pathetic whimpers. He sounded like someone had personally betrayed him.
She pressed her forehead against the doorframe.
“He is really doing this,” she muttered.
From inside the bedroom, Amanda called out, muffled but clear. “He’s been staring at the door for ten minutes. I think he believes you died.”
Angela groaned and pushed the door open.
Spork was sitting upright on the bed, eyes wide, tongue out, ears back. The instant he saw her, he let out a joyful yip and immediately collapsed onto the comforter like he had been rescued from the brink of despair.
“He literally watched me walk down the hallway,” Angela said, stepping inside.
“He does not care,” Amanda replied. “He needs visual confirmation. Constantly.”
Angela rubbed her face with both hands. “I was on the couch for five minutes.”
“Too long.”
Spork rolled onto his side and let out a long sigh.
Angela stood at the foot of the bed, unsure whether to laugh or cry.
Amanda sat up slightly, brushing the hair off her face. “You can sleep here, you know.”
Angela looked at her.
Amanda shifted. “I mean... if you want to. For him.”
Angela raised an eyebrow. “Right. For him.”
Spork let out another tiny groan and pawed at the blanket like he was preparing a guilt trap.
Angela sighed and crossed the room.
She pulled back the blanket and slid into the empty side of the bed, careful not to jostle Spork too much. He immediately crawled across Amanda’s legs and wedged himself between them like a fleshy little doorstop.
Angela settled against the pillow and let her eyes close.
Amanda shifted beside her. Not touching, but close.
“You sure?” Amanda asked softly.
Angela opened her eyes again.
“I’m not gonna sleep knowing he’s crying,” Angela said. “And I don’t think you will either.”
Amanda smiled. “You’re right.”
A long pause.
Then Amanda added, “But it’s not just for him.”
Angela turned her head.
“I know,” she said quietly.
The room fell into silence.
Spork let out one last huff of satisfaction and curled into a tighter ball.
Angela stared at the ceiling.
“You remember that trip to Maine?” she asked suddenly.
Amanda laughed under her breath. “The one where Spork chased a lobster trap and refused to get back in the car?”
Angela nodded. “I thought we were gonna lose him to the ocean.”
“He would have joined the local crustacean mafia in a heartbeat.”
Angela smiled and glanced over. “I miss that version of us.”
Amanda looked back at her. “Me too.”
Another pause.
Angela took a breath. “Do you ever think we could get it back?”
Amanda did not answer right away.
Instead, she reached out and gently brushed her fingers over Angela’s hand, slow and uncertain, like she was testing the water.
Angela turned her palm up and laced their fingers together.
Amanda whispered, “I think we already are.”
They lay there in the quiet, Spork snoring softly between them like a tiny little engine running out of steam.
Angela closed her eyes again.
Not because she was tired.
The morning was quiet. The kind of quiet that felt earned.
Angela had woken up to the smell of rain and the warmth of Amanda’s knee resting against hers under the blanket. Spork had somehow managed to wedge himself horizontally across the foot of the bed and looked absolutely thrilled with himself.
They had stayed there for a while, slow to move, wrapped in something that felt fragile and new. Angela made coffee. Amanda yawned through a few sleepy words. They fed Spork. The usual.
Now, Amanda was in the shower. The water ran behind the closed bathroom door, steam curling out beneath it. Angela was sitting on the couch, sipping her second cup of coffee, Spork nestled at her side like an old man guarding his throne.
The apartment felt like it had returned to something safe. Something small and sweet.
Until Amanda’s phone rang.
Angela looked over at the screen.
She expected it to be work. Maybe her sister. Maybe a food delivery reminder she forgot to cancel again.
But the name on the screen made her sit up.
Emily
Angela froze for half a second.
Then, without thinking, she picked it up.
“Hello?”
Silence.
Then a voice. Cautious. Sharp around the edges.
“…Angela?”
Angela swallowed. “Yeah.”
“Oh.” A pause. “I was calling for Amanda.”
“She’s in the shower.”
Another pause. This one longer. Uncomfortable.
Angela leaned back into the couch, fingers tight around the phone.
“You’re… there,” Emily said slowly.
Angela exhaled through her nose. “I am.”
“I didn’t realize the two of you were still in touch.”
“We’re not just in touch.”
Another beat of silence. The water still ran behind the closed door. Spork shifted on the cushion beside her and sneezed.
Emily’s voice returned, lower now. “So you’re back together?”
Angela stared out the window.
“Not officially,” she said. “But yeah. Something like that.”
Emily let out a breath that was almost a laugh. “Well. Guess that answers that.”
Angela frowned. “Why are you calling?”
“I needed to talk to her,” Emily said. “That’s all.”
Angela could hear it. The way her voice dropped on the last word. That tension. That soft edge of something unsaid.
“You two dated,” Angela said quietly. “After we broke up.”
Emily did not deny it. “Briefly.”
Angela felt the sharp edge of something bitter in her chest. She kept her voice calm.
“Well. She’s in the shower.”
Emily let the silence stretch again.
Then: “Tell her I called.”
Angela considered ending the call right there. No explanation. No closure.
But she did not want to be that person anymore.
“I will,” she said.
And hung up.
She set the phone down on the table and stared at it.
Spork looked up at her and made a soft noise, like he was annoyed she had disturbed the vibe.
Angela reached over and scratched between his ears.
“I know,” she said. “I didn’t like it either.”
A few minutes later, Amanda stepped out of the hallway in a towel, her hair dripping, cheeks flushed from the heat of the water. She looked relaxed. Light.
Angela hated that she had to ruin it.
“Hey,” Amanda said, rubbing at her wet hair with the towel. “Everything okay?”
Angela hesitated.
“Emily called.”
Amanda stopped walking.
Angela watched her face change. Not fear. Not guilt. But something wary.
“What did she say?” Amanda asked.
Angela shrugged. “Asked if we were back together. I said not officially. But close.”
Amanda wrapped the towel tighter around herself. “Sorry. I didn’t know she’d call.”
Angela stood.
“I need to ask you something.”
Amanda met her eyes.
Angela stepped closer. “Are you still talking to her?”
“No,” Amanda said immediately. “I haven’t. Not since before I moved back in.”
Angela searched her face.
Amanda stepped closer too.
“I’m here, Ang. Not with her. Not with anyone else. Just here. With you.”
Angela took a breath.
“Okay.”
Amanda looked down.
Angela reached out, gently touching Amanda’s arm.
“I trust you,” she said. “I do.”
Amanda’s eyes flicked up, searching.
Angela added, “But if this is gonna work, we can’t hide anything. Not even calls.”
Amanda nodded. “I’ll block her.”
Angela let her shoulders drop.
“Thank you.”
They did not talk about the call again for the rest of the morning.
Amanda got dressed. Angela made toast. Spork stole one of the crusts and ran under the table like he had just robbed a bank. The day went on.
But the silence between them was not the same as before. It was not gentle. It buzzed under their skin like a warning. Not a fight, not yet. But something sharp. Waiting.
By late afternoon, Amanda was sitting at the table with her laptop open and her jaw clenched.
Angela noticed. She had been noticing all day.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Angela asked quietly.
Amanda kept typing for a second. Then stopped.
She stared at the screen. Then closed the laptop.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
Angela sat down across from her. “For what?”
“For not telling you about Emily. That it happened. That it ended. All of it.”
Angela folded her hands in her lap.
“I guess I thought if I said it out loud, it would hurt you. And I didn’t want to mess this up again.”
Angela exhaled slowly. “You didn’t mess it up. But I need to know I’m not the only one being honest.”
Amanda nodded, her fingers twitching against the edge of the table.
“I was lonely,” she said. “You know that. After everything... I needed something soft. And Emily was soft. She was kind. But it was never going to be real. I think I knew that even when it started.”
Angela watched her.
Amanda looked back. “She wasn’t you. She couldn’t be. I think she knew that too.”
Angela felt a pinch of pain deep in her chest. Not from jealousy. From recognition.
“I didn’t date anyone,” Angela said. “Not because I didn’t want to. But because I couldn’t make it make sense. Everyone I met, it felt like I was playing a part. Going through the motions. Thinking about you.”
Amanda blinked. “You thought about me?”
“Every day.”
They sat in silence for a moment.
Then Amanda reached across the table and took Angela’s hand.
“I know we’re not starting from zero,” Amanda said. “We’ve got history. We’ve got baggage. But I want to do this right this time.”
Angela squeezed her fingers. “Me too.”
Spork wandered into the room carrying a sock in his mouth. He dropped it by Amanda’s foot like a peace offering, then sat down and wagged his tail.
Angela glanced down. “Is that one of mine?”
Amanda laughed softly. “Probably.”
Angela leaned forward. “Can I ask you something?”
Amanda nodded.
Angela hesitated. “Why did you call it off with her?”
Amanda looked down at the table, her thumb brushing across Angela’s knuckles.
“I kissed her once,” Amanda said. “And afterward, all I could think was how wrong it felt. How quiet it was. Not peaceful quiet. Empty quiet. I kept looking at her and waiting to feel something. And then one night, she made this joke... and I laughed, but it felt fake. Like I was pretending to be in the kind of relationship I used to have with you.”
Angela swallowed.
“I told her I couldn’t keep doing that. That I wasn’t ready. That it wasn’t fair to her.”
Angela looked at her. “That must’ve been hard.”
“It was. But not in the way I expected.” Amanda’s voice softened. “What was hard was realizing that I never stopped loving you. That even when I tried to move on, I kept coming back to you in my head. In little things. Songs. Smells. The way someone else folded their laundry wrong.”
Angela laughed, a soft, surprised sound.
Amanda smiled. “No one folds like you.”
Angela shook her head, blinking hard. “You’re really saying all this.”
“I meant every word,” Amanda said. “And I’ll keep saying it, if you need me to.”
Angela stood slowly and walked around the table. Amanda turned in her seat.
Angela knelt beside her and rested her head on Amanda’s knee.
Amanda brushed her fingers through Angela’s hair, gentle and slow.
“I want you,” Angela said quietly. “But I’m scared.”
Amanda leaned down and kissed the top of her head.
“I’m scared too. But I’m not going anywhere.”
Spork climbed onto the chair next to them and flopped against Amanda’s side with a grunt.
Angela let out a shaky laugh. “I think we’re officially forgiven.”
Amanda smiled. “We’d better be. He’s the one running this house.”
Angela looked up at her.
And Amanda kissed her.
The kiss lingered.
It did not rush. It did not demand.
It simply stayed.
Amanda’s hand was in Angela’s hair. Angela’s fingers curled around the edge of Amanda’s chair. Spork made one tiny noise of protest before shuffling off to a corner, giving them space like a parent who was tired of supervising teenagers.
Angela finally pulled back, just an inch. Just enough to breathe.
Amanda looked at her, eyes wide and quiet, lips parted like she had more to say but was not ready to ruin the silence yet.
Angela pressed her forehead to Amanda’s knee again and let out a soft, shaky breath.
“I didn’t expect today to go like this,” she said.
Amanda let her hand rest gently on Angela’s cheek. “Me either.”
Angela looked up. “Do you want it to?”
Amanda smiled. “Yes.”
Angela stood slowly, knees stiff, heart somehow worse.
Amanda stood too, meeting her halfway.
They were close now. Closer than they had been in months. Closer than that night on the couch. Closer than last night, even with Spork snoring between them.
Angela reached for Amanda’s hands and held them tight.
“You don’t have to say anything,” Amanda said. “But if you feel it, I want to know.”
Angela opened her mouth.
Then closed it.
Then stepped forward and kissed her again, soft and full, both hands on Amanda’s waist.
Amanda melted into it.
There was no need to rush. No desperate pulling, no reckless tearing at each other like they would vanish if they did not hold on tight enough. There was just the ache of time lost and the wonder of finding each other again.
Angela broke the kiss and rested her head on Amanda’s shoulder.
Amanda held her.
“I love you,” Angela said.
Amanda closed her eyes.
“I love you too.”
They stayed that way for a while, standing in the middle of the apartment like the walls had vanished and the only thing keeping them steady was each other.
Eventually, Amanda spoke.
“Come to bed,” she said, her voice soft and certain.
Angela looked at her. “Now?”
Amanda nodded. “Not for anything more. Not yet. Just… to be close. I want you next to me. Not across the hall. Not on the couch. I want to wake up and see you.”
Angela swallowed, her chest full and heavy in a way that felt good.
“Okay,” she said.
They turned out the lights together. Angela brushed her teeth. Amanda put Spork’s blanket on the end of the bed. They climbed under the covers without speaking.
The quiet between them was no longer waiting for something to break. It was full of small promises. Small warmth. Small hope.
Spork settled between their feet.
Amanda lay on her side, facing Angela. Her eyes were already starting to flutter shut.
Angela reached out and touched her hand under the covers.
Amanda’s fingers curled around hers.
“I missed this,” Angela whispered.
Amanda opened her eyes just long enough to say, “Then don’t leave.”
Angela shook her head.
“I won’t.”
Spork let out a soft snore.
And for the first time in a long time, sleep felt like peace.