Maya

*Contains loss*

I should’ve known better. 

But her green eyes, her light hair, her soft skin- it drew me in like an ant to honey. 

But it became my undoing. 

Let me rewind a little. 

Christmas Eve, five years ago. A work party. 

It was the kind of event I normally wouldn’t have bothered attending- I would rather spend my Christmas Eves by the fire with a book, not being much of a party person- but it was required for my job. 

I was just getting through it, talking to people because I had to. I excused myself from a conversation after seeing that I’d stayed long enough to not be considered rude for leaving. I was close to the exit when I saw her. 

She was possibly the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. She had stunning green eyes and long blonde hair. I decided not to leave after all. 

Thirty minutes later, I worked up enough nerve to go talk to her. 

“Hey,” I’d said. 

“Hey,” she said, meeting my eyes with a smile that lit up her whole face. Wow, she’s beautiful. 

“I’m Noah.” 

“Nice to meet you, Noah. I’m Maya.” Something about the way she said my name made me feel like she felt the same way I did right now.

We talked for a while, the conversation surprisingly smooth without many awkward moments. After the party, Maya came over to my apartment for a while. I kissed her.

We ended up seeing each other a lot. It was perfect. Rarely awkward. She was amazing. 

I remember the second time I kissed her. We were sitting on the roof of my apartment building. She looked incredible, with her light hair braided back and her green eyes shining in the moonlight.

And then there was the night we had our first fight. It was over something stupid- I don’t even remember what it was anymore. I just remember that fear of losing her. That was when I knew I would marry her. 

A few months later, I proposed in a flower garden. She said yes. 

We had an amazing wedding. Easily the best day of my life. She was beautiful in that white dress in the middle of an apple orchard. We had a honeymoon in Florida, then moved into my apartment together. Ready to take on the world. 

And the world gave us a fight. First me losing my job to my boss’s son, then our apartment building getting burnt down. We made it through, though- together. 

When Maya told me she was pregnant, it felt like a ray of sunshine in the darkness. I came home to find her standing in the bathroom, holding a pregnancy test, with the biggest smile on her face. I was so happy.

We stayed up late talking about baby names. We were both so excited.

Six months later, Maya went into labor. It was too soon. I don’t remember much from that, it’s all a haze. The baby didn’t make it, and neither did Maya. Maya, the love of my life, the only person I had ever loved, ever dated, ever wanted. Gone. Just like that. 

It’s a funny thing, grief. What grief does to people. Especially people who are both grieving. People who connect over that grief- even if just for one night. 

She looked just like Maya. Her sister. Emma. I knew I could never love Emma, but she clearly had a thing for me- and I didn’t have the strength to resist. Especially with the close resemblance.

A month later, she called me with that cursed word. Pregnant. 

I told her I’m sorry. For everything. And that I’d try to help her and make sure the baby is taken care of. She wanted to be a family. I told her we couldn’t. 

I was there when the baby was born. I helped pay for hospital bills, doctors appointments, everything. But when I said once the kid is older I want joint custody, she told me no. I took her to court. 

I lost. She had a better lawyer than me, and I couldn’t do anything about it, seeing as I couldn’t afford a better one. The most hurtful part is that her parents paid for the lawyer. Maya’s parents. My in-laws. I knew Emma’s their daughter, but it still felt like betrayal. 

Now I've watched my son grow up from afar. I published a book, centered around a protagonist who has to fight for custody of his child, and loses at the end. It became a bestseller. 

And still, my life is empty. I live alone, in an empty house. I watch my son grow older, and older, through social media posts. 

I watch his sixteenth birthday through pictures. He has friends over for a sleepover.

I see his high school graduation through videos. He was in the top 10% of his class.

I see his twenty-first birthday through pictures posted late. There's the same girl in all the pictures.

I only find out he's engaged because he posts a picture of the ring on her finger.

I only see pictures of my son’s wedding. The girl looks sweet. I wish I could say I knew for sure. 

I see the pictures he posts of his honeymoon in Hawaii. It makes me think of me and Maya's in Florida.

I watch as he posts pictures of his newborn baby. A girl. He names her Maya. 

I don’t get to know my granddaughter, or my son, or my daughter in law. I see what my life could have been, and it’s almost worse than not having seen it to begin with. All because I fell for Emma’s green eyes, and light hair, and soft skin. 

I should have known better. 

I think about this many times, when the hopelessness is so intense I wonder what the point is anymore. 

I got a message about a month after Maya’s born. Is this Noah?

Yes, I reply. 

This is your son. Calob. 

I know. 

I’d like to meet you.