One month later

Maya was on a HiveTalk video call with Rafael when Sean knocked.

She waved him in without looking away from the screen. As if he could see her through the door. “Come in. We’re almost done.”

Sean closed the door quietly. Set his bag down. Leaned against the wall, out of frame.

Rafael’s tired face filled Maya’s laptop screen. His São Paulo kitchen behind him. “The project just got a Tech Crunch article. Video app on Nostr. Like Vine, but open.”

“It went viral?”

“Mainstream attention. People want this.” Rafael paused. “But now they’re scrambling to turn the prototype into something real. It’s a lot.”

Sean stepped into frame. “Sorry to interrupt.”

“Sean!” Rafael’s face lit up. “How’s NextBlock?”

“Good. Building.” Sean moved to stand behind Maya’s chair. “What’s the project?”

“Video app on Nostr. diVine. It’s gettin mainstream press. Just wasn’t ready for the flood.” Maya filled him in.

“Mainstream press. For Nostr?” Sean leaned forward. “That’s what we need.”

“But not before you’re ready.” Rafael said. “You get the attention before you can handle…people try it. If it’s rough, they don’t come back.”

“Or they do come back, but you’re scrambling.” Maya added.

“It’s exciting though.” Sean said. “A video app is what broke through. That’s good for all of us.”

Rafael looked between them on the screen. A small smile.

“What?” Maya asked.

“Nothing. You two just…” He shook his head. “You sound like a team. Last time we talked Maya was figuring this out alone.”

Maya glanced up at Sean. He was looking at the screen.

“It’s all her. I just showed up.” Sean said.

“Good.” Rafael laughed. “She needed someone who could keep up.” He waved. “Good to see you both.”

“You too.”

“Bye, Rafael.” Maya ended the call.

The screen went dark.

Maya leaned back in her chair. Sean moved to sit on the edge of table.

“We need to be ready when that happens to us.” Sean said.

“We’re not ready.”

“That’s why I’m saying. The referral program. It’s time.”

“It’s not time.”

“Maya—”

“If we turn it on and it works. Which it will. We can’t handle what comes next. We don’t have the infrastructure.”

“So we build it.” Sean stood up.

“With what? We’re two people.”

“Then we figure it out. But we can’t keep sitting on this.”

“I’m not sitting on it. I’m being smart.”

“You’re being scared.”

Maya’s head snapped toward him. “Excuse me?”

The front door opened.

Salma and Gabriel walked in. Bags in hand. Laughing about something.

They stopped.

Maya and Sean. Facing each other. Turned to face them.

“…Everything okay?” Salma set her bag down slowly.

“We’re fine.” Maya said. Too quickly.

Gabriel looked at Sean. Then Maya. “You sure? Because this looks like a thing.”

“It’s a good thing.” Sean said. “We’re arguing about a good problem.”

“A growth problem.” Maya added.

Salma looked between them. Relaxed. “Oh thank god. I thought you were breaking up.”

“We’re not together.” Maya said.

“Right.” Salma walked to the kitchen.

Gabriel sat down on their couch. “What’s the good problem?”

Sean looked at Maya. She waved him on.

“We have a referral program.” Sean started. “Gives half our service fee to whoever referred the buyer. Of any billboard. No cap.”

Gabriel’s eyebrows went up. “That’s aggressive.”

“So people get paid to invite friends?” Salma called from the kitchen.

“People get paid when the friends they invite actually spend money.” Maya corrected. “It’s not a gift. It’s a commission.”

Gabriel was doing the math. “If it works, it compounds. Every new person brings more people who bring more people.”

“Exactly.” Sean pointed at him. “It goes viral on its own.”

“Which is what I’m worried about.” Maya crossed her arms. “We need to figure this out before we open it up for early access sign up.”

“Why is going viral bad?” Salma came back with water.

“Because we’re not ready. If ten thousand people sign up tomorrow, we can’t serve them. The app breaks. First impression ruined. They leave. They don’t come back.” Maya looked at Sean. “We’re watching another Nostr project go through this in real time.”

“We don’t know that’s what’s happening.” Sean argued.

Gabriel leaned back. “So you need to gate it.”

“That’s what I’ve been saying.” Maya looked at Sean.

“I’m not against gating it.” Sean held up his hands. “I just don’t want to move slow because we’re scared.”

“Gmail.” Gabriel said.

Everyone looked at him.

“Gmail launched invite-only in 2004. You got a handful of invites to give out. That’s it. People were selling Gmail invites on eBay.”

“Clubhouse did the same thing.” Sean said. “Invite-only. Created massive demand.”

“Facebook.” Gabriel counted on his fingers. “Harvard first. Then Ivy League. Then all colleges. Then everyone. They gated it for years.”

“I remember begging my cousin for a Facebook invite.” Salma said.

Maya uncrossed her arms.

“So you gate it.” Gabriel looked at her. “But tie it to the referral program. Make the invites limited.”

“Early access is just a waitlist.” Sean clarified.

“Rght,” Gabriel leaned in. “I’m saying let people in through that waitlist, but only give them a few referrals to give out.”

“21.” Maya said.

“21 what?” Salma asked.

“21 invites. Each.” Maya stood up. “Once you’re in, you can refer 21 people. If you’re referred, you skip the early access line.”

“21.” Sean smiled. “Nice.”

“Huh?” Salma said.

“Exactly. And you’ll have controlled growth.” Gabriel looked at Maya, then Sean. “As you grow the supply side of your market.”

Maya looked at Sean.

He pointed to the whiteboard.

Maya was already walking toward it.

Gabriel looked at Salma. “Your roommate’s going to be rich.”

Salma shrugged. Sipped her water. “I already told her I’m ready to sail on her boat.”

Six weeks later

One month into the government shutdown.

It was the perfect autumn afternoon. The leaves had turned. Tourist season was over. The eggnog latte was back on the menu at the Corner Cafe.

Maya was almost done with hers. Sean’s had gone cold. It sat untouched as he stared at his laptop. She was staring at him. Smiling. He hadn’t noticed.

She finally moved her eyes from his lips to his laptop. He didn’t have a single sticker on the back. She jumped in her chair and grabbed her bag. Reached in and pulled something out and hid it in her hand.

“Sean.” Maya said softly.

He didn’t look up.

“Sean.” She tried again.

Nothing.

“Shayan.” Maya said flirtatiously. With perfect pronunciation.

His head shot up. “Sorry.” He pulled out his headphones. “What did you just say?”

“Shayan.” Maya said, but with less confidence this time.

His face softened.

“I practiced.” She slapped down a sticker next to his untouched latte.

“Our logo?” He picked it up. “What’s this for?”

“For you.” She tapped her nail on the back of his laptop. “If you’re gonna be a cypherpunk, you need stickers on your laptop. Shayan.”

“Oh, are those the rules?” He smirked. Holding the sticker up.

“Them the rules.” Maya snatched the sticker out of his hand. He gently handed his laptop over to her and she placed it on.

“Thank you.” Shayan ran his fingers over the sticker. He looked back up at her. “Thank you.”

“You’re so welcome.” She pulled another sticker out of her bag and placed it on her laptop. She grabbed her phone and pulled Shayan in for a selfie that showed off both stickers.

Shayan grabbed her phone. “My arms are longer.” He reached one arm out to hold the phone and used the other to pull Maya into his arms.

She tilted her head onto his shoulder.

Their smiles grew when they saw themselves together on the phone.

Shayan took the photo. Handed the phone back. “Do you approve?” Shayan asked.

Maya checked the photo. She lifted her head. “This’ll be in the archives.”

“The NextBlock archives?” Shayan’s eyes softened. “I love how much you believe in this.”

“It’s gonna work. I know it will.” Maya was dancing in her seat.

“I don’t know how I would be getting through the last few weeks without you.” Shayan said, leaning back in his chair, exhaling.

“We got so much done while you’ve been furloughed.” Maya was beaming. “Shayan. Unleashed.”

He cracked a little smile.

“We got to have a trial run for doing this for real. Full time.” Maya leaned in. “As partners.”

His eyes locked on hers.

“I think we work.” She said firmly.

Shayan chuckled. Then let out a bigger chuckle.

“Why is that funny?” Maya objected.

“It’s not.” He finally caught his breath. “I think we work too. I’ve thought we’d work since that night at coat check.”

Maya held his gaze. Then she leaned forward. “Then let’s really do it. You’ve been unleashed these past few weeks. What if you didn’t go back?”

Shayan’s face changed. “What?”

“When the furlough ends. What if you didn’t go back?”

He set his laptop down. The sticker caught the light. “Maya—”

Her voice was steady. “Imagine if you didn’t have to track whether congress did its job. If you were just here. With me. Building this.”

Sean lowered his voice. “How could you ask me that right now? You know what’s happening.”

“I actually don’t. I don’t care. I care about NextBlock.”

He shook his head. “There will be so much to do when it opens back up. There is so much falling apart right now.”

“You’re obsessed with knowing everything but you can’t touch any of it. They probably won’t even let you help when you go back.”

“You don’t need to care.” His voice was quiet. “But you need to respect my career.”

“You’re wasted there.” She almost scoffed.

Shayan stood. Picked up his bag. His laptop. With the sticker she’d just put on it.

“I can’t do this right now.”

“Shayan—”

He was already walking out.

Maya sat there. Her phone still in her hand. The selfie. Both of them smiling.

A few minutes later

Sean was walking. Just walking. Trying to cool down. The air was sharp. Leaves under his feet.

He looked up.

Maya. Across the street. Walking too. Or maybe she’d been sitting. She had her bag. She’d left the cafe.

He stopped. She saw him.

He raised his hand. Waved her over. Nodded toward the bench.

She crossed the street. They sat.

“I shouldn’t have walked out.” Sean said. “But you can’t spring that on me.”

“I didn’t spring it. I’ve been patient. I’m not patient anymore.”

Sean was quiet. Then he started. “I’ve been there for so long. It’s an otherwise easy job. I know how to do it. I just deal with a lot of bullshit. But it’s important that I be there. So when it’s time to rebuild, I can influence things.”

“They will never let you be in charge.” Maya said. “You’re too smart. You’re too pure. It’ll always be small wins and compromises.”

He didn’t argue.

“You’re a creative mind. You solve problems people don’t see. You anticipate what people need.” She leaned in. “Imagine if you didn’t have to anticipate the bullshit you deal with. Imagine you never had to dumb down a good idea because someone was old, corrupt, or just fucking stupid.”

“Yes but that’s everywhere. Not just government.”

“Exactly.” Maya said. “It is everywhere. The people in charge don’t know what the fuck they’re doing. Or they do, and they’re intentionally making shit not work. Either way, it’s a shit situation. And how can you expect me to feel about this? You think I’ll enable this?”

“That’s dramatic, Maya. I have a good job. I work with great people. It’s a good salary.”

“A salary you don’t need.”

“That’s not true.”

“Bullshit. Yes it is.” Maya’s voice was flat. “I know you have enough. You’ve stacked enough. And if you moved your retirement…you’d still be fine.”

She took a breath. “I know I’m asking a lot of you. But I’m not wrong. And I’m excited about NextBlock. I’m excited about us. You can’t vilify me here.”

Sean looked at his hands. “Maybe you can easily leave a job because you’ve been going from company to company. But this is a community I’m a part of. This is the federal workforce. This is civil service. Leaving it is not the same as leaving a private job.”

“I’m not saying this isn’t a hard decision. But it’s a signal. Show the universe you’re ready for more.”

“I am ready.” Sean’s voice rose. “I did give the signal. I’ve given so much. I’ve been happy to! Once it gets to a point where I have to quit, I will. But I need to be there for now. I can’t believe we’re fighting right now over this. When you’re finally ready.”

“But you’re not ready.” Maya said.

“I’m not ready to quit. I’m just not.”

“I’m ready but not for half of you.” Maya said. “Shayan, this isn’t enough for me. Not us. I mean this life. That everyone around us lives. Spending most of the week, of our days, doing things because other people tell us we have to. I want to design. I want to control. That makes sense for me.”

“It’s not realistic, Maya. Not yet. We’re early. Bitcoin is sixteen years old. Nostr is four years old. You need to be patient.”

“No I don’t. I need to work towards it. Not against it.”

“So now I’m against NextBlock?”

“Either you think we’re going to disrupt and save social media or you don’t. Either you think this could change everything or you don’t.”

“You know I do.”

“Then act like it. Because you’re showing more conviction in the US federal government than something you and I are building.”

Sean didn’t answer.

“If you’re not ready, fine. You’re not ready. But stop lying to yourself. This is all imploding. You need to get out.” Maya took a deep breath. Tried to calm herself.. “Maybe I haven’t cared about my work. And that’s why I had the brain power to come up with the attention protocol. But with your divided attention you named our company, you designed our first app, you’ve brought it to life with me. What could we achieve with all of you? I want to find out.”

She waited. Patiently. Smiled.

He finally spoke. “I just can’t. Not right now.”

Maya stood up.

“Really?” Shayan looked up at her. “The second you don’t get what you want from me?”

“It’s what I want for you. Not from you.” She said. Looking down on him.

Sean stood up. Looked at her one more time. Then walked away before she had her chance to.

PLACEHOLDER — To be written

Setting: Nice restaurant on 14th Street, Logan Circle. Gabriel and Salma left Maya and Sean to work. Not a planned date — they just drifted off together. Candles, wine.

Beats: Start with Sean and Maya (“Think they’ll be at it all night?”). Gabriel thinking out loud about the protocol. Google ad auction — your attention auctioned without consent. Salma the lawyer hears “auction without consent” and it clicks. They debate, test each other’s thinking. Gabriel’s opportunity — people with throwaway marketing budgets. “Your girl might be onto something” — Salma realizes she took it seriously because of Gabriel, not Maya. Two prestige-path people (Goldman, partner track) figuring out what they believe in.

See reviews/act3-restructure-notes.md for full scene notes.

2 weeks later

Salma was on the couch. Gabriel next to her. Close. They’d been inseparable since the festival. He was always there.

Maya was at her desk. Working. Alone. Two weeks since the fight.

She hadn’t stopped. Rebuilt the onboarding flow. Redesigned the landing page. Sent the team notes directly. Reviewed code. Pushed changes. Stayed up past 2am more nights than she’d admit.

Thanksgiving had come and gone. The government had opened back up. She’d seen a few text exchanges between him and the design team. Brief. Professional.

She told herself she was giving him space.

“Maya.” Salma’s voice was careful. Too careful.

Maya looked up from her laptop. “Yeah?”

Salma and Gabriel exchanged a look.

“What?” Maya closed her laptop. “What’s going on?”

“So Gabriel found out something today.” Salma said. “About Sean.”

Maya’s stomach dropped. “What?”

Gabriel leaned forward. “Ken told me. Sean got RIF’d. Laid off. Today.”

Maya stared at them. “What?”

“Reduction in force.” Gabriel said. “Government cuts. They let him go.”

“When?” Maya’s voice was quiet.

“Today. Ken said Sean told him this afternoon.”

“He didn’t tell me.” Maya said. “He didn’t tell me.”

Salma’s face softened. “Maya—”

“He didn’t tell me.” Maya repeated. “We haven’t talked in two weeks. Why would he?”

“He was probably just upset.” Salma said. “It’s clearly a hard time for him right now.”

Maya’s voice got sharp. “He walked out. He said he couldn’t do this. And then he stopped talking. Stopped working. With me.”

“Maya—” Gabriel started.

“No.” Maya stood up. Started pacing. “I asked him to quit. I told him he was needed here. Wanted here. And he lost it on me.”

“That’s unfair.” Salma tried to calm her.

“He walked out on me. On us. On NextBlock.” Maya’s voice rose. “And you’re telling me I’m being unfair?”

“I’m telling you he’s probably embarrassed.” Salma said. “He defended that place. You were right. And now they’ve let him go. That’s humiliating.”

Maya was quiet. “I know.”

Gabriel cleared his throat. “When I left Goldman, I chose to. And that still took me years to even imagine.” He looked at Maya. “He didn’t get to choose. That’s a different kind of hurt.”

“So maybe cut him some slack.” Salma said quietly.

“I can’t.” Maya sat back down. “I was right. He knows it. And he’s not saying anything.”

“He’s hurting—” Salma started.

“So am I.” Maya looked at her phone. No messages. “He’s the one who walked away. He needs to come back.”

Salma and Gabriel were quiet.

“He didn’t tell me.” Maya said again. Quiet now. “He doesn’t need to know I know.”

That night

Shayan was at the bar. Second drink he’d barely touched.

Ken slid in across from him. Nima right behind.

“You look terrible.” Nima said.

“Thanks.”

Ken flagged the bartender. “Two of whatever he’s having.”

They sat for a minute. No one talking.

“You gonna make us guess?” Nima asked.

Shayan rubbed his face. “She asked me to quit.”

“Maya?” Ken asked.

“At the cafe. I quit and she’d be ready to date. Be together.”

“When was this?” Nima asked.

“Two weeks ago.”

“Two WEEKS? And you’re just now—”

“I didn’t want to talk about it.” Shayan cut him off.

Nima leaned back. Bit his tongue.

“What exactly did she say?” Ken asked.

“She said we work. Then she said quit. In the same breath. I tried to explain to her why I couldn’t. Not now. Or then…It was a suddenly a deal breaker for her.”

Nima whistled low. Ken just nodded.

“Have you talked since?” Kiss asked.

“No.”

The drinks arrived. Nima took a sip. Ken waited.

“She wasn’t wrong.” Shayan said it to the bar. Not to them.

“This is just bad luck.” Ken patted his back.

“Or good luck?” Nima leaned forward. “Just go talk to her.”

“It’s not about her.” Shayan picked at his bottle’s label the label off his bottle.

“About all of it. Things are falling apart there. I can’t even open my work laptop—it’s illegal when you’re furloughed. But I’m glued to the news. The group chats. Every rumor. I’m obsessed with knowing everything that’s happening and I can’t do a damn thing. I’d never abandon them. But I’m not even allowed to be there. For what?”

“So quit.” Nima said.

Sean looked at him.

“What? You just said she’s right.”

“It’s not that simple. I can’t just—” Sean stopped. Picked at the label on his glass. “I can’t even picture it. Not having the job. Not being that person.”

“What person?” Ken asked.

Sean didn’t have a quick answer. “The person with the stable career. The one his parents can explain at dinner parties.”

Nima snorted. “‘My son quit his government job to build an app with a girl he met in Vegas.’ That’s honestly a great dinner party story.”

“Nima.” Ken said.

“I’m kidding.” He wasn’t fully kidding.

Sean almost smiled. Almost.

“How do you feel about her?” Ken asked.

Sean exhaled. Took a drink. Didn’t answer right away.

“She’s the only person who makes me feel like I’m doing something that actually matters.” He said it fast. Like if he slowed down he’d stop. “She doesn’t wait for anyone. She just goes. And she handed me her whole vision. Just trusted me with it.”

“And you’re ghosting her.” Nima said.

“I’m not—”

“Two weeks. No contact.”

“That’s not—”

“That’s ghosting.” Nima looked at Ken. “That’s ghosting, right?”

Sean’s jaw tightened.

“I’m not trying to start something.” Nima held up his hands. “But you obviously care about her. And you walked out. And now you’re here instead of there.”

“Because I don’t know what to say.” Sean’s voice cracked. Just barely. “She wants me all in. And I can’t be that right now.”

“Can she wait?” Ken asked.

“That’s what’s killing me.” Sean turned the glass. “I keep thinking it’ll blow over. Shutdown ends. I go back to work. We keep building NextBlock. She sees I can handle both.”

“And the dating part?” Nima asked.

Sean went quiet.

“You don’t know if she’ll want that.” Nima said. “If you’re still—”

“Stuck. Yeah.”

That word sat there.

The bartender dropped off menus. No one opened them.

“You’ve changed since you met her.” Ken said. “You know that? You’re more present. More excited about things. I’ve never seen you talk about your actual job the way you talk about NextBlock.”

“Ken—”

“Let me finish. She makes you better. That’s obvious. But you gotta figure this out yourself. Because honestly?” Ken shrugged. “We don’t know either.”

“Helpful.” Sean deadpanned.

“You want me to lie?”

“I want this to be simple.”

“Nothing about you has been simple since Vegas.” Nima said.

Sean shook his head. But something in his face loosened.

“I’m not quitting.” He said. Firm. Like he was trying to convince himself. “Not right now. Things will settle.”

Ken and Nima didn’t argue.

“Can we eat?” Nima grabbed a menu. “You look like you haven’t eaten in days.”

“I haven’t.”

“That’s upsetting.” Nima flagged the server. “Two of whatever’s fast.”

Sean leaned back. Stared at the ceiling.

He wasn’t okay. But at least he’d said it out loud.

1 week later

A knock at Maya’s door.

She looked up from her laptop. Checked the time. 8 PM.

She walked to the door. Looked through the peephole.

Shayan.

She froze. She hadn’t seen him in three weeks. Hadn’t heard from him. Hadn’t known if she ever would again.

She opened the door.

“Hey.” He stood there. Hands in his pockets. Tired.

“Hey.” Maya said. “What are you doing here?”

“Can we talk?I know it’s late. But I need to say some things.”

Maya stepped back. Waved her arm. Let him in.

He walked to the couch. Sat. Didn’t look at her.

Maya stood by her kitchen. Leaned against the counter.

“I got fired.” Sean said. “I know you know.”

Maya looked at the floor.

“I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you.” He looked at her. “I should have. But I’ve been… processing.”

She waited.

“I’m sorry about that day. Walking away. Going quiet.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “You were trying to help me and I couldn’t hear it.”

“You ghosted me.” Maya’s throat tightened.

“I know.” He looked at the floor. “You offended me. But then let me go. None of it matters

.“

He fidgeted with Maya’s Little Hodler plushie.

“I thought I was making a difference.” His voice broke slightly. “But the system doesn’t care. It never did.”

“You’re not nothing.” Maya said quietly.

“It feels like it.” He turned the plushie over in his hands. “You said something at the cafe. That I could imagine NextBlock working but couldn’t picture myself in it.”

Maya didn’t breathe.

“I’ve spent my whole life belonging to institutions. Student. Employee. Always someone else’s.” He looked at her. “I couldn’t even imagine being my own.”

Maya was quiet.

“But these last few weeks. Not working. Just… sitting with it.” He set the plushie down. “I started to see it. Myself. In NextBlock. Not just the product working. Me in it. Building it. With you.”

Maya’s eyes filled. “Sean—”

“I lost my identity when they fired me. And then I realized — I’d lost it a long time ago. I just didn’t know.” He looked at her. “NextBlock is the first thing I’ve built that’s mine. Ours. And I almost threw it away.”

He stopped. Something else pushing up.

“The whole time I kept thinking — what if she doesn’t need me to come back.” His voice cracked. “What if she’s already past it.”

“You didn’t throw it away.” Maya blinked. “And I’m not past it.”

Sean let out a breath he’d been holding. “I want to fix this. Us. Our trust. I don’t know where to start. But I’m here.”

Sean reached for her hand. Stopped. Pulled back.

“Okay.” Maya said softly.

They sat there. Both processing.

“Can we start tomorrow?” Sean asked. “At the cafe? Our usual table?”

“Yeah.” Maya nodded. “Our usual table.”

Sean stood. Walked to the door. Stopped.

“Thank you.” He said. “For waiting.”

Maya’s throat tightened. “I’m still here.”

He opened the door. Walked out.

Maya sat there. Alone.

The next night

Leyla was already seated. Wine in hand. Menu open.

Maya dropped into the chair across from her. “Sorry. Cafe ran late.”

“With Sean?” Leyla didn’t look up.

“How did you—”

“Because you texted ‘I need to talk’ and only one person makes you text like that.” She poured Maya a glass. “Drink. Then talk.”

Maya drank. Set it down.

“He came to my door last night.”

Leyla’s menu dropped. “Go on.”

“He apologized. For everything.”

“How do you feel?”

“I don’t even know.” Maya pulled at her napkin. “I’ve been angry for three weeks. And then he’s just standing there. Tired. Honest. And I can’t hold onto any of it.”

“Because you like him.”

“Because I’ve liked him since Vegas and I’m tired of pretending that’s not the whole problem.”

Leyla set her wine down. “Okay. We’re doing this.”

“You know I believe in you.” Leyla said. “In anything you do. You’re one of the smartest people I know. But—”

“But.”

“And you just met him six months ago. I don’t think it would be unreasonable to say asking a guy to quit his job to date you is… unreasonable.”

“But we started a business together.”

“Yes, I know.” Leyla said. “That’s also weird. I’m sorry! It is! I don’t know how you thought this would go.”

“I don’t know either.” Maya pulled at her napkin. “I can’t explain it. We get these ideas and he is immediately down to try. It’s an energy I’ve never played off of.”

“That sounds fun.”

“It is. We have so much fun.”

Maya sighed.

“I think NextBlock is gonna do well.” She said. “I really do. And I need to make sure he believes in it the same way I do. Not just that he’ll help me build it—that he wants it. That he wants this life. And I don’t understand why he didn’t want this as bad as I do.”

“That’s not fair, Maya.”

“I’m so tired of everyone saying that to me.” Maya’s voice rose. “What’s fair to me?”

“The universe fired him for you.” Leyla said. “Isn’t that fair?”

They laughed.

“Sean had a whole life when he met you.” Leyla said. “You’re asking him to change his life. Some people need an external push.”

“I wanted to be that for him. He should’ve freed himself.”

“Yeah. This shit is embarrassing. But it’s not personal. And he has to know that.”

“I think he does.” Maya said. “I hate this but I’m happy he got fired.”

Leyla laughed. “Yes, cause I know you can be petty as fuck.”

“Look, it could’ve been you.” Leyla said. “You could’ve been fired the day you quit. Get off your high horse, my love.”

“I love how small everyone looks from up here though.” Maya joked.

“You have to meet us halfway at least.” Leyla said. “You are very patient with us. Give him some of that slack.”

“I really am so patient with you guys. Too patient.”

“Remember I would email you my photos for you to load them into Google Photos cause I didn’t know how to download the app.”

“I do. For like three years you pulled that shit.”

“But Sean has to quit his job just to go on one date with you?!” Leyla spread her hands. “Make it make sense.”

The waiter appeared. Leyla ordered for both of them without looking at Maya. Appetizers. Entrees. Another glass.

Maya sat with it. Then she reached for a bread roll. Tore a piece off.

“He asked me to come over this morning.” Maya said. “For Yalda.”

Leyla paused. A slow smile.

“Yalda.” She said. Warm.

“Is that a big deal? Because of the way you’re looking at me.”

“It’s personal.” Leyla said simply. “Poetry. Food. Staying up until the light comes back. It’s not casual, Maya.”

“He said he wants to cook.”

“Persian food?” Leyla laughed softly. “He’s trying.”

“Have you been to his place?” Leyla asked.

“No. Never. He’s always at mine.”

Leyla raised an eyebrow. “So this is the first time.”

“Is this a date?”

“What do you think?”

“I think I’m terrified.”

“Good.” Leyla squeezed her hand. “That means it matters.”

The appetizers arrived. They ate. Leyla’s cases. Her nightmare opposing counsel. Whether Maya should buy something new.

“You’re not wearing jeans.” Leyla said.

“I wasn’t going to—”

“You were absolutely going to wear jeans.”

“I hate you.”

“You love me. Wear the green one.”

“I know which one.”

They laughed. Ordered dessert they didn’t need. Talked about nothing important.

Walking home, Maya felt something she hadn’t in weeks.

Light.