The neon sign above the diner flickered in sync with the nervous drumbeat in Maya’s chest. For years, she’d lived by a simple rule: She knew her own strength, her own bed, and exactly how to be whole on her own.

Maya laughed, but it felt breathless. He’d caught her. Every time things felt too easy, too sweet, her internal alarm went off. How am I supposed to love somebody else when I’m still figuring out how to let them love me?

Maya felt a shift, like a gear finally clicking into place. She realized that being ready didn't mean being perfect or having no fear. It just meant being willing to find out what happened next. She reached across the table, her hand hovering for a second before finally covering his.

But then there was Leo—sitting across from her with a smile that felt like a question she didn't know how to answer.

"I'm just overthinking," Maya admitted, taking a deep breath. "Take your time," he replied. "I'm not in a rush."

She looked at Leo—really looked at him—and saw he wasn't trying to take over her world; he was just asking for a seat in it.

She thought about the lyrics she’d screamed in her car just that morning. She’d spent so long being her own hero that the idea of a partner felt like a disruption to her peace. She was "2 Be Loved," sure—theoretically. But the "Am I Ready" part felt like a mountain she hadn't finished climbing.