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As she frowned at her phone, Maya was tapping the fingertips of one hand against her palm.
“What is it?” Franziska asked her eventually. It had been over an hour since they’d both agreed they shouldn’t spend all evening in bed, but neither of them had quite made it out; Maya had sat up properly to check her notifications, while Franziska slumped back against the headboard.
“Nick asked if I can go in tomorrow. To court, I mean.”
Franziska blinked. It was almost seven p.m., later than even the most last-minute trial could have come through. They were about to eat dinner, and Maya had been showing Franziska all her favourite old samurai movies, and – she couldn’t think of anything she wanted less than the spectre of the courtroom appearing in the middle of it.
“Why?” was all Franziska managed.
“He’s been reviewing everything, and – I don’t know, he said it looks more complicated than everyone was making it out to be. He wouldn’t be asking if he didn’t really need me,” Maya added, as Franziska’s lips set in a tight line.
Maybe he should have thought about it earlier. Maybe he should have kept track of what he had to do. Never mind that Franziska had done the same, countless times. Late-night eyestrain, trying to pick through the tangled threads of a case that had looked, on the surface, like she wouldn’t even need to try and win.
“I should go. Shouldn’t I?” Maya started to type out a reply. “I should go. It’s not like I’m far away.”
“Do you want to?”
Maya seemed taken aback by the question. “It’s not a big deal. Not like I haven’t been back since –” She faltered, and neither of them filled in the gap.
Maya’s shaky, exhausted testimony. Franziska, watching from the gallery, eyes burning after a night of no sleep.
That sentence was left fragmented as Maya continued. “You know I went in with Nick for a few days last week. And it was fine. I can handle things coming up last minute.”
“You didn’t answer my question.” It came out sharper than Franziska had intended.
She blinked. “Sure, I want to.”
Franziska wasn’t convinced, but how was she to know that was a reasonable impulse? As she was often reminded, she didn’t read people well – had done well enough in court by assuming everyone was being dishonest, and using or ignoring that knowledge when it suited her.
She was struck by something between revulsion and panic at the idea of returning, and more broadly at her plans for the next day changing on such short notice – that didn’t mean Maya felt the same way.
The humiliation of her own childishness had grabbed Franziska before she’d noticed it was there, and she didn’t want Maya to see it. “Then go ahead.”
“Oh.” Maya shifted a little closer to her. “I won’t go if you want me to stay. I know this is out of nowhere.”
For half a second, Franziska hated it. That she could say whatever, and Maya would try and pick through the layers to what she actually felt, and do it with an understanding of Franziska’s rules and idiosyncrasies.
If Franziska told her not to go, then she wouldn’t. And it sickened Franziska to be given that promise of unconditional care.
It passed. Maya was looking away from her – not trying to force her into eye contact – and Franziska was hit by the softness of it, the lack of expectation or disappointment. There was no hidden meaning in what Maya had said. She was offering genuinely, because she said everything that way. No test for Franziska to fail.
She could exhale. Let her fingers twist together in her lap. “You can go. Really.”
“It’ll only be tomorrow. Not a long one. I’ll be back for dinner, you know. And I’ll text you before I leave.”
That gave her some sort of structure to work with. Both of them, actually. It left Franziska feeling some sort of gratitude towards Phoenix Wright, who she could assume was fighting through his own disorganisation to give Maya as much of a plan as possible.
Franziska hadn’t talked to him since that day in Hazakura. Wished she could pinpoint the day she’d stopped hating him; it had been long before, but it still felt like a gap where something should be.
She still enjoyed picking at him, though. Second-hand, through Maya, who she was sure relayed at least some of it back. “Is he so certain he’s going to lose, then?”
Maya laughed, loud and full and real, and Franziska let the relief carry her forward.
In the weeks since Franziska had returned from Kurain, she’d stayed unused to waking up alone; every morning, rolling over and staring across an empty bed. How instinctive it had become after such a short visit should have been embarrassing – a fortnight shouldn’t outweigh the rest of her life.
But Franziska had stopped caring about that as soon as she’d opened the door a few days ago to Maya tackling her with a hug, breathless “I missed you!” into Franziska’s shoulder. A lot of things had stopped mattering at that moment.
Every other time they’d been together had felt so separate from the rest of the world, an oasis as the rest of Franziska’s life had fallen apart. Now, reality was starting to bleed through the cracks.
They woke up at the same time as Franziska would have if she were the one going into court. Half-awake, she was transported back to the morning she’d woken up and been unable to make herself return.
Then Maya was swearing under her breath, leaning over Franziska to turn off the alarm and kissing her cheek, and the memory started to feel like another bad dream.
By the time Maya was about to leave, Franziska had dragged herself out of bed – she’d known she’d never be able to fall back asleep, and she didn’t want to lie in bed alone, lingering over the thought she was about to spend all day alone. Ignored her reflection in the mirror, made herself a cup of coffee.
Sat on the couch with her knees pulled up to her chest, Franziska tried to persuade Maya to take some food with her, as she searched through her backpack for her headphones. “I’ll buy something,” she promised, pulling out a tangle of wires.
Franziska sighed. Maya had already refused Franziska’s offer to pay for her to get a taxi; why she’d choose to subject herself to rush-hour public transport, Franziska had no idea. “Please eat something before lunch. And fill your water before you go in.”
“Wait, where did I put my bottle?”
“In your bag.”
“Right. Right. I forget this one has a side pocket.” She rocked back and forth on the spot for a second. “Okay, I think that’s everything.”
“Let me know when you’re on your way back.”
“Yeah, will do.” Maya put one earbud in, went to open the door. “Love you!”
Instinctively, Franziska replied, “Love you too.”
It took a moment to register with either of them. Maya still reaching for the door when she stopped and turned back around.
“Oh.” Maya’s voice was stilted, weighing up each word. “We. We haven’t said that before, have we?”
Franziska licked her lips. “No.” She was hyperaware of the sound of her own voice. Heartbeat high in her chest, a rush of static in her ears. She was used to speaking without thinking, but this rush was unlike anything else she’d experienced.
Maya’s hand hadn’t moved from the door. “Well.” She gave Franziska a cautious smile. Halfway to her normal grin, where her eyes would crease at the corners and her cheeks would flush darker. “I guess it saves us having to overthink it, right?”
“Right.” Franziska was still dizzy. They hadn’t stopped watching each other.
Faster than Franziska could fully process, Maya was crossing the room; standing over Franziska, as she sat up taller, opening her mouth to say, What are you –
Maya leaned down and kissed her, and everything quieted. Just Maya’s mouth, and how she cupped Franziska’s jaw, and the tickling of her breath on Franziska’s skin after she pulled back.
In the seconds afterwards, lingering in a place where the rest of the day didn’t exist, the silence between them felt warm.
“You don’t want to be late.” Franziska spoke before she knew what she was saying.
“Shit.” Kissed Franziska again, brief and barely there. “Yeah, I can’t miss this bus.” Maya straightened up hurriedly, her magatama bumping against her chest. “I’ll see you later!” she threw back over her shoulder.
She gave a little wave and was gone before Franziska had formulated a response, the door clicking shut behind her.
The sound seemed to echo through the silence for hours after Maya had left; it was too quiet with just Franziska. As quiet as it had ever been, she reminded herself, but it was so easy to become used to Maya’s presence. Let it fill every room she was in.
Without Maya, she remembered why she hated this flat. Franziska was going to move somewhere that wasn’t month-to-month, the first place she’d found back when she’d been trying to convince herself she didn’t want to stay. She was going to, eventually.
That was her favoured explanation for the still-packed boxes and suitcases, weeks after she’d brought the last of her things over from Germany. Why she’d only been able to force herself to clean because Maya had been coming over. The creases in all her shirts, unironed, thrown into a pile at the bottom of the wardrobe between wears.
She changed into one of those crumpled button-ups after showering, found a pair of trousers she’d forgotten she owned. If she was going to spend all day waiting for Maya to get back (as much as Franziska didn’t want to admit it, she didn’t know what else she was supposed to do), then at least she’d look a little more presentable.
Plus, it would make her feel better. Spending all day in her pyjamas reminded Franziska of her worst days, empty and listless, and she liked to put those off for as long as possible.
For whatever reason, she was expecting to hear from Maya throughout the day. As if she weren’t working. It was still a struggle to remember Franziska’s old life carried on without her – like it would stop existing if she wasn’t there to watch it. So much time given to something she didn’t want, and it hadn’t even needed her in return.
But Maya didn’t say anything, and Franziska tried not to read into it. A hard habit to break, when it had been her job to try and find the worst possible angle for anyone’s behaviour. What it could mean if it was held in the least favourable light; pulled together from the shadows cast, gaps filled in to create one perfect line that led straight to Franziska’s gut instinct.
The same instinct that said All people lie.
Maya wasn’t a liar. Genuine to a fault, undisguised and earnest, the sort of person Franziska had always assumed was a fiction. Hard to accept she wasn’t – Franziska didn’t need to guess at what she really meant, picking through a list of rules and hidden nuances until she found the true core of it.
It was so easy to try anyway, though. And after the conversation they’d had before Maya had left…
Franziska was sure there was something she was supposed to pull out of that, an implication that should have been obvious, but she couldn’t get there. Their conversation stayed inscrutable, a sense at the back of her throat that she was missing something.
Was it regrettable? Well, it wasn’t for Franziska, because she’d meant it; the problem was more whether it was for Maya. That possibility left Franziska powerless, vulnerable. Left her wanting.
Had Maya kissed her afterwards to smooth things over – make everything seem more okay than it was?
Maya had said it first. Maya had said it first, and Maya didn’t like lying. That was what Franziska kept repeating to herself, as she continued to do nothing else.
It wasn’t supposed to be a long trial, as Maya had said, but the afternoon dragged on without a word. Every noise outside made Franziska start, as if it were Maya returning, having forgotten to tell Franziska she’d left (which wasn’t exactly the most unlikely thing to happen).
Franziska hadn’t even asked what the case was, so she couldn’t even check if it was high-profile enough for her to follow online. As she had with many of Miles’, back when there had been time zones and continents between them.
She looked on her normal news sites, but when nothing was immediately apparent, the urge to keep digging snapped her back to reality. This was ridiculous. What Franziska needed to do was stop being dramatic and use the time to work on something she’d been putting off. Like unpacking. Or force herself to spend more time thinking, properly thinking, about going back to university.
But she didn’t. It was impossible to make herself do anything when her plans had been disrupted, even if they weren’t real plans – no actual substance to what they would have done today. Unable to adjust, everything wrong and out of place.
Like the last five minutes before an appointment, for the entire day.
She’d almost stopped flinching every time she saw a notification on her phone – adjusting to it always being an email she didn’t open, or a calendar reminder she should have deleted – when she saw it was really Maya’s name this time. waiting for bus
Then, a few minutes later: nick put me in a cab
back soon
The comfort Franziska had been waiting for didn’t arrive. Her unease became colder, more solid. Maya had likely texted Franziska more than everyone else Franziska knew put together; so she felt more certain Maya didn’t talk like this, she didn’t, so brief and dispassionate.
Maybe Franziska didn’t have that intuitive sense of how people worked, but she knew how to watch them. Spot signs that showed her vigilance had been worth it.
It was paralysing, though. Couldn’t make herself do anything with it – put the words together to ask if Maya was okay, what had happened, how long she was going to be.
Franziska got up, walked a lap around the room. Sat back down again, but the buzzing feeling under her skin remained, trying to make her keep moving. Keep pacing, or shake the tension out of her hands.
She fidgeted with her earrings, the buttons on the sleeve of her shirt. Didn’t even think to go down to the lobby to meet Maya – she was supposed to be let straight up, Franziska had told the staff as much when Maya had first arrived. And it hadn’t occurred to her that might not happen, that the correct procedure might not be followed, until she’d been waiting for too long and it hit her that Maya might be waiting downstairs.
As she was about to walk down and check (all those flights of stairs, a good way to get some of that energy gone), her phone lit up: outside
When Franziska opened the door, Maya was waiting a few paces back. Stiller than Franziska had ever seen her, earbuds not yet taken out, phone held out in front of her like she was about to throw it.
A full second before Maya noticed, slow blink before she looked up; stepping forwards only once Franziska moved out of the way.
Maya yanked her headphones out as soon as she got inside, the only swift movement she’d made so far. The rest of her seemed stuck in slow motion, several steps back from everything around her – gaze unfocused, slowly flickering over the room as she walked through it.
When she mumbled something about going to lie down, it was hardly audible, leaving Franziska too slow to register it. Pull the words together, line them up.
She hadn’t said if she wanted to be alone, and the lack of clarity was a paralytic. Franziska was staring at the bedroom door long after Maya had shut it. Not quite all the way, the slightest crack along the doorframe, and Franziska didn’t know if she was supposed to interpret that as meaning something.
She’d never been one for interpreting. In the lines other people could read between, she’d only ever seen gaps.
Franziska had been aware that this was apparently a defect for… Well, it had been the first supposed lack of genius she’d noticed in herself, the first time she’d tried to reach for something that wasn't there. Missing, or too much.
She hadn’t let it matter – didn't much care for the idea that there was a flaw, when nobody seemed to be able to explain what she was supposed to do instead. If people would think she was callous and controlling, no matter what, then she’d do it on purpose; it had suited her well enough. Felt good, to be the one in control of it.
One of the reasons she could pretend to thrive in the courtroom for so long. There were rules, the expectations people had so clearly defined: the law and its execution, an intricate map of social engagement. When that structure wasn’t there, people started to see it more clearly, and it all came back to her perfection again. Another thing she fell short of, no matter how hard she tried.
The only person who hadn’t seemed to harbour this specific expectation had been Miles. Beneath every rivalry had been their unspoken alliance – against the noise and the too-bright lights, the people who obfuscated and spoke in ways neither of them could make sense of.
Then – Maya.
Who didn’t seem to have ever noticed what people thought of her. How much space she was happy to take up, in equal yet opposite ways to Franziska; because it wasn’t carefully managed, it was her unfiltered interests and ideas, how she naturally talked and held herself.
Before they’d started talking, Franziska never would have thought the world could be too much for Maya. She seemed determined to make it accommodate her.
But sometimes (often) it resisted. Refused to make space. Franziska hadn’t seen Maya this overwhelmed before, but she knew the mechanisms behind it. They felt it all in the same way.
So she sat back down, but on the edge of the couch, only her toes touching the ground. Kept staring at the part-open door without acting, letting the sight of it crush her chest.
She – as in Franziska von Karma, the person she’d been very good at being up until recently – wasn’t meant to act like this. Should have followed behind Maya and demanded to know what was wrong, who she could blame, how she could fix it. Pushed at the situation until it broke, because that was how things began to make sense.
But again, no courtroom. She didn’t like the idea that it had always been this close to fracturing. As soon as there were no lines to follow, no easy win.
Franziska let her fingers tap against her palms. Another thing that had become impossible to sustain, when she wasn’t committing herself completely to that performance, had been the physical control. No more waiting for a recess so she could find somewhere quiet, shake the tension out; she’d let that part of herself slip, and she didn’t know how to pull it back.
Maya didn’t want her to. Of course, she didn’t.
Maya. Franziska carried on staring at the other side of the room. What she did know, picking through the logic of it like a case file, was that Maya wasn’t normally like this. If she was withdrawing, then Franziska knew what it was like to feel that burning – shutting down to try and blunt the world’s sandpaper-rough edges.
But then nobody would let you be, because it wasn’t normal to feel that way, and that was when she’d snap. Glad to see them scared, when they should be; she wouldn’t have to spend every second trying to perform if it wasn’t for them, after all. Everything wouldn’t be so hostile if she actually got a say in any of it.
After so long being told there was something wrong with being alone, seeing people should always make things easier, Franziska wasn’t going to act like the people she’d hated. Wasn’t going to deny Maya that choice. Even though every part of her was screaming to fix it, do something, take control of the situation.
Picked up her phone, tapped her nails on the clear plastic case. Then stopped, in case Maya could hear it.
Franziska didn’t know how long she waited. Didn’t know what was wrong, whether this was the right thing to do; all she had was the gut knowledge that this was Maya after the sort of day Franziska had experienced a thousand times before. The sort of day Franziska had thought for so long nobody else would understand.
But she did. Just didn’t know how she was supposed to explain that. Every part of how she spoke, too blunt and unfiltered, or filtered in all the wrong places.
It wasn’t fair she was so bad at this. If she had to disappoint at everything else – couldn’t she at least be good here? But no, she wasn’t even second-rate.
If Maya needed time, though, Franziska could give her time. Sent her a text: Let me know if you need anything. Then felt like a fool for not having done that earlier. Stayed and waited and breathed, and told herself she was going to kill Phoenix Wright if this was in any way his fault.
Maya: you can come in now
Maya: if you want to. dont worry about it
Franziska stood up so quickly all the blood left her head, and she had to steady herself against the arm of the couch.
In the bedroom, Maya was lying on her half of the bed. Curled up, staring at her phone – hair ties and jewellery on the side table, but she was still wearing her acolyte’s uniform, skirts twisted around her legs.
Once she’d noticed Franziska, Maya put her phone down, but didn’t make any more effort to move. Franziska sat next to her.
“Do you want to get changed, at least?” Franziska hated how cutting her voice sounded. So indelicate.
Maya blinked. “Oh. I guess I should.” She pushed herself up, frowning. There were a few seconds where she stared down at herself, her legs, before she took a deep breath. “Right. I need to…”
“I can get you some clothes.”
Maya’s shoulders sagged. “Yes. Please.”
Her bag had been partially unpacked into Franziska’s closet, soft purples and earth tones next to Franziska’s sharp suits. That pile of shirts she’d been trying to ignore.
Franziska found the skirt she remembered Maya wearing in Kurain, on days when she hadn’t needed to go out – green, loose cotton Maya liked fidgeting with. A samurai movie t-shirt, so old the print no longer made the fabric stiff, and the lavender cardigan with too-long sleeves Maya pulled over her wrists when she was stressed.
She returned with everything folded over one arm. Laid each item out separately, one next to the other, in the order Maya would get dressed in. Maya’s eyes were downcast, but Franziska could feel her watching. Mouth moved in the shape of what Franziska guessed was thank you, but no sound came with it.
When Maya stood up, she stumbled; Franziska moved close enough she could catch her, but not close enough she was touching without warning. Maya recovered herself, bracing on the bedpost, and Franziska pulled away.
Each of Maya’s movements were slower than normal. Pulling her hair out from her t-shirt once she’d put it on – normally one fluid motion, now careful and deliberate. Franziska knew how quickly she could fold her kimono, chatting to Franziska as she did; today, it seemed to take every bit of her attention.
And when she was done, old outfit neat on the mattress, Maya’s posture slumped again.
“Can you-?” Maya stopped to find what she was trying to say. “Put it back in its bag? On your closet shelf.”
Stayed standing as Franziska orbited her. Holding the sleeves of her cardigan in her fists.
She only let go of them to tuck her hair behind her ears; each time, it was back within a matter of seconds. Fanning over the side of her neck, her cheek, as she turned her head to watch Franziska closing the closet doors.
At once, Maya grabbed the last section to fall with such force that Franziska thought she’d have to run across to stop Maya pulling it out – she didn’t, but her knuckles were turning white, eyes squeezed shut. As her hand trembled, her forehead was creased, lips pressed into a tight line.
“It’s too much.” Maya’s voice wavered on the edge of shouting. “I– Fran, can you just – braid it for me, or something, I need it away, please.”
“Of course.” There was a relief in being told there was something she could do to make this better.
Maya sank down onto the edge of the bed, eyes squeezed shut. Holding as much of her hair away from her neck as she could, so tightly it had to be hurting her scalp. The time it took Franziska to find a hairtie and brush felt far too long.
Sat behind her, Franziska said, “You can let go now.” But Maya stayed rigid until Franziska’s hands were under her hair. Only then did she unlock her fingers one by one, shaking as the tension left them.
Franziska started separating the sections, tongue between her teeth as she focused. Trying to remind herself, Maya didn’t need precision; she just needed it done, and wouldn’t enjoy Franziska’s fussing.
She’d long lost the muscle memory she’d used for her own hair as a child, and Maya’s was long and thick enough it slowed Franziska down further. Maya didn’t complain; didn’t say a word.
When the strands were even, and she was sure she wasn’t going to drop them as she worked, Franziska asked, “Do you want to talk about it?”
Maya’s lack of response told her enough. After all, it wasn’t like Franziska had been expecting much else – she wasn’t sure how else to show she cared other than by extending the offer.
“It was just… so much,” Maya said quietly.
Franziska stopped. Losing track of where she was, trying to remember if the left or the right side was next, as she struggled to formulate a reply.
“The trial?”
“The.” Maya stopped. “The bus was busy. I thought I was going to be late. Then the courtroom changed last minute. And, I don’t know.”
She sighed, hunching over. Franziska moved with her as best she could, not wanting to stop Maya as she rocked side to side for a few seconds. There was something comforting in not just the repetition, but mirroring each other’s movements like this.
“It was so busy. And noisy. You know. When all the sounds are as loud as each other.”
“Hm.”
And Franziska hated it – hated that it had worn Maya down like this. That the accusations of inflexibility only ran one way, to the people who wanted everything to make sense, and never back to the inhospitality they were surrounded by.
It would feel so good to spit out something about that, as she would have before. Everybody lied, and nobody cared, and the only way to keep going was with as much barbarity as possible.
Franziska bit the inside of her cheek, hard. Felt the ridges of her molars as she tried to push the words down.
Focused on Maya’s glossy hair in her hands, and slowly unclenched her jaw as the urge to snap receded.
“I’m sorry –” Maya started.
Franziska interrupted her immediately. “You are not apologising.”
Normally, Maya would have laughed. Or, Franziska thought she would have. But she didn’t, and Franziska couldn’t see her face to see if she’d reacted at all: You’re funny, Maya had told her, when Franziska had been in Kurain.
But it was easy to imagine everything about how Franziska normally spoke would have too much bite now. That ability to, what was it her teachers had said in school – Moderate your tone? – seemed as shadowy as ever.
Maya tried again. “Sorry–” Then she did give some version of a laugh, Franziska thought, a sharp exhalation Franziska would have missed had she not been so close. “No, I’m not.”
“Good.”
Franziska couldn’t be sure, but she thought Maya’s posture softened a little. Less stiffness in her back as Franziska continued, not flinching when her pinkie brushed against her.
Maya sighed, though, and Franziska paused. Gathered a few of the loose strands she knew would be tickling Maya’s neck; Franziska didn’t want to restart the entire thing, so she tucked them in as best she could.
I love you, Franziska kept thinking. After she’d said it once, it kept bubbling up, sitting on her tongue.
She wasn’t about to complicate this further. Didn’t know – didn’t know if this was what Maya needed to hear right now. If it might somehow make things worse.
“Don’t be mad at Nick. He told me to go home at lunch.”
“And you didn’t?”
“Thought I’d get used to it. And then I didn’t, and by the time I knew I needed to leave, we weren’t going to have any more breaks, and I didn’t want anyone to notice me.” Maya was out of air by the time she’d finished her sentence.
Then she mumbled, “So it was my own fault.”
The obvious contradiction of it all was laid before Franziska in perfect detail: somehow Maya’s fault, but she’d detailed how it had been hostile to her from the start; but she’d known the expectations of the people watching the trial, and the consequences if they weren’t fulfilled.
Franziska had been a good lawyer – no matter what, she knew she’d been talented – and nothing had felt better than these moments of clarity in the middle of a case.
Didn’t feel like that now. It was something smaller. Sadder.
More to herself than to Maya, Franziska muttered, “I should have told you not to go.”
Maya's shoulders stiffened. “Wouldn't have helped,” she replied eventually.
And Franziska was frustrated. At herself, for not objecting; at Wright, for asking Maya in the first place, then for not trying harder to make her go home. Most irrationally of all, at Maya, for being so self-sacrificial, only caring about how everybody else might feel.
Anger was cleansing, righteous; it was easy, when nothing else was.
She was done. Franziska had finished the braid without noticing. Leaned back to look at it – nowhere near as sleek as her primary school plaits, uneven and untidy. She’d much rather go back and do it all again –
“That’s so much better,” Maya said softly.
Franziska stopped. Stared at her own hands, and at how Maya was hugging herself around the middle. And took the hairtie from her wrist to fasten it off.
Perfect is the enemy of good. One of her least-favourite sayings, because the answer had always been that things could be perfect. But in this instance, Franziska supposed she could see some of the logic behind it.
When Franziska moved to put the hairbrush down on the side table, Maya shuffled away, pulling herself in to avoid any contact. Franziska didn’t take offence. How could she?
Not when she remembered the faux-pouts of distant relatives when she’d refused to be hugged: Liebst du mich doch nicht? she’d been asked, as if there was no better display of love than making yourself miserable.
Well, she did love Maya, and that was why she’d never repeat anything like that. No matter what layers might have been in the conversation earlier that Franziska hadn’t seen, she loved Maya. It was as evident as the threads of logic she’d once used to precision.
And just as evident was the fact that it had never been love that had told Franziska to change.
“We didn’t even win.” Maya let herself fall onto her side, legs hanging off the edge of the bed. Franziska had to twist around to keep looking at her. “Stupid.”
“Oh.” Franziska hesitated. What loss meant to Maya – it wasn’t as clear cut as it had been for Franziska, but she couldn’t believe it was nothing. “I’m sorry,” she tried. It sounded weak.
Maya didn’t move. “I don’t know if it was my fault.”
This was easier. “It wasn’t.”
“You’re just saying that ‘cause you’re mad at Nick,” Maya mumbled, pressing her face into the pillow.
“Well–” Franziska was still annoyed with him, after all, and up until this point she’d thought she was doing an acceptable job at hiding it. She gave up on trying to convince Maya otherwise and continued, “I’ve seen you in court. I find it hard to believe you could have ruined an entire case.”
Did that make it sound like she thought Maya was unimportant? Like her role didn’t matter, because she wasn’t a lawyer and had no intentions of becoming one? As if she shouldn’t feel the way she did?
“Thanks,” Maya whispered.
Then, “I’m making a big deal out of nothing, aren’t I?”
“Don’t be foolish.” Franziska caught herself. “I mean...”
For the first time all afternoon, Maya smiled. Slow and shaky as she looked up, but it was there. “No, I like… I like how obvious you make it sound.”
“Well, it is.”
Maya dropped her head back down, tucking her hands under the pillow. She liked the pressure, Franziska knew; she would lie like that until her arms started to tingle.
Franziska walked around to the other side, lay herself down; Maya opened one eye when the mattress shifted. “I can go,” Franziska told her.
Shaking her head as best she could while on her side, Maya replied, “Not much talking for a bit, though.”
When Franziska nodded once, Maya closed her eyes again. She looked so tired – must have slept badly last night, darker skin under her eyes. The same shadows that Franziska’s restless nights had made into a near-permanent feature of her own face. Felt like a loss she hadn’t picked up on that morning, or at least when Maya had returned earlier.
Would it ever stop feeling like something she was supposed to do better? A loss of the genius she was supposed to possess, in the same way her need to quit had felt pathetic?
But Franziska wouldn’t be herself without it. Whoever that person was.
“I love you,” Maya spoke so quietly Franziska could have missed it. Yet the hardly-caught sentence was all she needed. The relief flooded through her like a wave.
“I love you too.” This, at least, she could do without failure.