Us

The dining table, usually a sanctuary of soft whispers and shared laughter, felt like a stage where Mimi was merely a background extra. She sat stiffly in her chair, her small frame feeling even more diminutive than usual. Her brown curls, which Jamal usually loved to twirl around his fingers, felt like a messy curtain she wanted to hide behind.

Across from her sat Anne. She was radiant in a way that felt loud—her laughter was sharp, her gestures wide, and her hand seemed to find Jamal’s forearm every few minutes to emphasize a point about a shared history Mimi wasn’t part of.

"And then, remember the time we tried to sneak into the Allianz Arena when we were twelve?" Anne chirped, her eyes shining as she looked at Jamal. "You were so scared we’d get caught, but I told you to just keep walking like you belonged there."

Jamal chuckled, his expression nostalgic. "I remember. My heart was pounding so hard I thought it would burst out of my chest. You always were the troublemaker, Anne."

"Someone had to keep you on your toes," Anne said, her hand lingering on his sleeve a second too long.

Mimi toyed with her pasta, the sauce growing cold. She wasn't a confrontational person by nature. In large groups, she was the one who listened; with Jamal, she was a clingy, affectionate shadow, but in the presence of this woman who seemed to occupy so much space, Mimi felt herself shrinking into nothingness.

Jamal, usually so attuned to Mimi’s moods, seemed caught in the whirlwind of the reunion. Anne had been studying in London for years and was only back in Munich for a short vacation. The excitement of seeing a childhood friend had apparently blinded him to the way Mimi had stopped eating ten minutes ago.

"So," Anne said, finally turning her gaze toward Mimi, though her smile didn't quite reach her eyes. "Jamal tells me you two have been living together for… what, six months now?"

"Almost seven," Mimi said softly, her voice barely audible over the ambient hum of the apartment.

Anne raised a perfectly groomed eyebrow, taking a slow sip of her wine. "And you’ve only been dating for a year? Wow. That is… incredibly brave. Or reckless. I can’t decide which."

The air in the room seemed to thin. Mimi felt a flush of heat rise to her cheeks. "We felt it was the right step for us."

"Of course, of course," Anne waved a hand dismissively. "It’s just, you know how it is at that age. Everything feels like a whirlwind. But Jamal, honey, don't you feel a bit suffocated? You’re so young, your career is exploding… having a domestic life this early seems like such a heavy anchor."

Jamal blinked, looking a bit caught off guard by the bluntness. "It doesn't feel like an anchor, Anne. Mimi makes everything easier. She’s my peace."

It was a sweet sentiment, one that should have made Mimi feel better, but Anne didn't let it land. She laughed, a tinkling, condescending sound. "Spoken like someone still in the honeymoon phase. Just wait until the reality of sharing a bathroom and bills really sets in. It’s a lot of pressure for a one-year relationship."

The rest of the dinner was a blur of Anne’s anecdotes and subtle jabs. She spoke about people Mimi didn't know and places they had been together, effectively building a wall between the couple. Every time Mimi tried to join the conversation, Anne would pivot back to a "remember when" moment, leaving Mimi stranded.

By the time the wine bottle was empty, Anne was swaying slightly in her seat. Jamal, ever the gentleman, stood up to help her with her coat.

"I should get her home," Jamal said, looking at Mimi with a tired but gentle smile. "She’s a bit tipsy and her parents’ place is on the other side of town. I won’t be long, okay?"

Mimi nodded, not trusting her voice. She watched them leave, the door clicking shut with a finality that left the apartment feeling strangely hollow.

Instead of waiting up, Mimi went straight to the bathroom. She scrubbed her face, trying to wash away the feeling of being "reckless" and "an anchor." She let the hot water of the shower run over her for a long time, hoping it would melt the knot of irritation and sadness in her chest. By the time she climbed into bed, she was exhausted, but sleep wouldn't come.

She checked the clock. Forty-five minutes. Then an hour. Then ninety minutes.

Where was he? Was he staying for a "nightcap" with her? Were they still reminiscing about their golden childhood?

When the front door finally creaked open, Mimi rolled onto her side, facing away from the door, and squeezed her eyes shut. she heard him moving quietly through the apartment, the sound of his shoes being kicked off, the rustle of his clothes.

The mattress dipped as he climbed in. Jamal smelled of the cool night air and a faint hint of Anne’s perfume that must have rubbed off on his jacket. He reached out, his long arm draped over her waist, his hand seeking hers in the dark.

Mimi immediately scooted toward the very edge of the bed, pulling away from his touch as if it burned.

The bed went still. "Mimi?" he whispered. "Are you awake?"

She didn't answer, keeping her breathing shallow and rhythmic.

"I know you're awake, love," he said, his voice closer now. He moved again, trying to tuck his chin into the crook of her neck. "What’s the matter? You were so quiet after the dinner."

"Nothing," she snapped, the word coming out sharper than she intended.

Jamal sighed, retracting his arm slightly but not moving away. "It’s clearly not nothing. You’re practically falling off the bed to get away from me. Did I do something?"

Mimi turned over abruptly, the moonlight from the window illuminating the frustration in her eyes. "You didn't do anything, Jamal. That’s the problem. You sat there for three hours while your 'childhood friend' treated me like an intruder in my own home."

Jamal looked bewildered. "What? Anne? She was just excited to see me, Mimi. She’s been away for years."

"She was touching you constantly," Mimi said, her voice trembling now. "She ignored every word I said. She told me to my face that our relationship was reckless and that I was an anchor dragging you down. And you just sat there and laughed at her old jokes!"

Jamal opened his mouth to speak, but Mimi was on a roll, the bottled-up emotions finally spilling over.

"And then you take two hours to drop her off? It takes twenty minutes to get to her parents' house! I’m sitting here feeling like a stranger in our apartment while you’re out there playing 'remember when' with a girl who clearly doesn't respect me or us!"

She finished her rant, chest heaving, and turned back around, presenting him with her back once more. She expected him to be defensive, to argue, or to apologize profusely.

Instead, she heard a low, vibrating sound.

Jamal was laughing.

Mimi whirled back around, her eyes wide with fury. "You think this is funny? You think it’s funny that I’ve been sitting here crying while you were out with her?"

Jamal reached out, catching her hands before she could push him away. He was grinning, his dark eyes sparkling with a mix of mischief and genuine affection.

"I’m sorry, I’m sorry," he said, trying to stifle his chuckles. "It’s just… Mimi, you’re so cute when you’re jealous. I’ve never seen you get this fired up."

"I am not cute! I am angry!" she yelled, though it came out as a frustrated squeak. She tried to yank her hands away, but he held on firmly.

"You’re adorable," he insisted, leaning in until their foreheads touched. "And for the record, the reason I took so long is because she was so drunk she nearly fell out of the car, and then her mother insisted on giving me a box of old photos to take home. I was stuck in the driveway talking to her dad about the season."

Mimi glared at him, her lip trembling. "She hates me, Jamal."

"She doesn't hate you," Jamal said, his voice softening as he saw the genuine hurt behind her anger. "She’s just… Anne. she’s always been loud and opinionated. But she doesn't matter. Not like that."

He pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her small frame and pulling her flush against his chest. Mimi resisted for a second, then went limp, burying her face in his shirt.

"I didn't notice she was being mean," he admitted into her hair. "I was just happy to see a friend. I’m a bit of a dummy sometimes, I know. But Mimi, look at me."

She pulled back just enough to look up at him.

"I asked you to move in because I couldn't imagine waking up without you," he said seriously. "There is no anchor. You’re the reason I can fly. You’re my home. Anne is just a memory from when I was a kid. You’re my entire future."

Mimi sniffled, her anger beginning to evaporate under the warmth of his gaze. "She said we moved too fast."

"Maybe we did," Jamal shrugged, a playful glint returning to his eyes. "But I’ve always been fast on the pitch, haven't I? Why change for my personal life?"

Mimi couldn't help it; a tiny, reluctant smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. "You're so annoying."

"And you're very jealous," he countered, squeezing her tight. "But you don't have to be. She’s going back to London in a week, and then it’s just us again. Just you and me, being 'reckless' together."

Mimi let out a long breath, the tension finally leaving her shoulders. She snuggled deeper into his embrace, her head resting right over his heart. The steady thud-thud of his heartbeat was the only rhythm she needed.

"One week?" she whispered.

"One week," he promised, kissing the top of her head. "And tomorrow, I’m taking you to that bakery you like. No friends, no childhood stories. Just us."

"Okay," Mimi murmured, her eyes fluttering shut. "But if she touches your arm again, I’m stabbing her with a fork."

Jamal laughed again, the sound rich and warm in the quiet room. "Fair enough, Mimi. Fair enough."