The morning sunlight streamed through the tall windows of the indoor badminton court. The only sounds were the squeak of sneakers on the surface and the rhythmic thwack of the shuttlecock soaring back and forth over the net.
Ray moved effortlessly around the court, not trying too hard to win the game. He was playing the way people played when the game was an excuse instead of the point. Emma noticed that right away, even as she lunged forward and sent the shuttle back with a sharp flick of her wrist.
"Still sandbagging," she said, smiling. "C'mon."
Ray chuckled as he returned her shot. "I call it playing smart. You call it frustrating. Either way, same outcome."
They exchanged a few more hits, falling quickly into a natural rhythm. It felt comfortable in a way they both noticed but didn't say out loud. There was a kind of muscle memory that wasn't just physical—it was in the timing, in knowing what the other person would do without even thinking.
Emma deliberately sent the shuttlecock wide, then groaned loudly as it landed out of bounds. She bent over, hands on her knees, taking deep breaths. Sweat dripped from her face and neck, running down her chest.
'Dang! She's hot!' He thought.
"Alright," she said. "Time out. Need water."
Ray gave a nod and walked over to the bench, grabbing two water bottles. He tossed one to her and sat down, stretching his legs out in front of him
They drank in silence for a moment.
Ray glanced at her sideways. "So," he said casually, like he had not been thinking about how to phrase it. "How was your campaign?"
She played with a bottle cap between her fingers for a moment before she spoke.
"It was really good," she said. "Draining, sure, but worth it. It felt like we actually achieved something instead of just talking about it."
She settled back against the bench and looked up to the ceiling. "Starting HeForShe was scary at first. Standing there and basically saying, 'Hey, this isn't just a women's issue, this is everyone's problem.' I kept worrying people would just roll their eyes or dismiss it as some kind of performance."
"And what happened instead?" Ray asked.
"And instead, a lot of men actually listened," she said. "Some were pretty awkward about it. Some got defensive. But many of them genuinely wanted to understand where they fit into all of it. That meant more to me than any applause."
Ray took another sip of water. "That took courage. Especially knowing the internet was probably already sharpening its knives."
Emma let out a small laugh. "Oh, they were definitely sharp. But being named a UN Women Goodwill Ambassador gave me a voice, and it felt wrong not to use it properly. I kept thinking about how easy it is for men to say they support equality without ever being asked to actually do anything about it."
Then she looked over at him, watching his reaction just like she used to.
Ray met her eyes. "Accountability makes people nervous. Especially when it means changing behavior instead of posting a quote."
Her smile was small but sincere. "That's exactly it."
They sat there for a second longer.
"You know," Emma said, softer now, "I kept thinking about you during parts of it."
Ray raised an eyebrow. "That sounds either flattering or deeply concerning."
She laughed. "Flattering. I promise. You were always good at listening without trying to fix everything. That's rare. A lot of men hear something uncomfortable and immediately want to debate it."
"I save debates for things that matter," Ray said. "Like whether pineapple belongs on pizza."
Emma shook her head. "Still wrong about that."
"Objectively correct," he replied, deadpan.
She gently nudged her shoulder against his. Both were surprised by how natural it felt, as if their bodies knew something their minds had been hesitant to acknowledge.
"Feeling like us getting back like this again is a bit strange," Emma confessed. "Not in a bad way, though. Just... not what I expected."
Ray glanced down at the court, then met her gaze. "Yeah, but it's not unwelcome."
She nodded. "We were completely different people back then."
"We still are," he replied. "Just perhaps a bit more open about it now."
Emma grinned, a genuine smile spreading across her face, and then got up, picking up her racket.
"Okay," she said. "Let's stop with the deep thoughts for this morning. The loser buys breakfast."
Ray stood up as well, stretching his shoulders. "Careful. I might stop sandbagging."
She aimed her racket at him. "Bring it on."
They walked back onto the court, the shuttlecock flying between them once more.
...
[9 AM] [Lugie's Diner]
The bell above the door rang as they stepped inside.
They slid into a booth by the window.
Emma shrugged off her jacket and leaned back, visibly relaxing now that the competition part of the morning was over. She looked at the menu, lips pursed in thought.
Ray already knew what he wanted.
A waitress came by with coffee before they even asked.
Emma ordered first. "I'll take the spinach and mushroom omelet, extra cheese, rye toast, and hash browns. And coffee."
Ray ordered. "Turkey sandwich, blueberry waffles, and a glass of orange juice."
The waitress scribbled it down without blinking, then poured Emma a cup of coffee.
When she walked off, Emma smiled at him. "You still order like you're feeding multiple personalities."
"Balance," Ray said. "Sweet, savory, and pretending I care about vitamins."
She laughed and wrapped her hands around the coffee mug.
They began chatting about work life and regular life, and Emma's charity works, where she travels often.
After a while...
"So," Emma said. "How's it going with Rosa?"
Ray replied. "We're doing great."
Emma studied his face, looking for cracks, but found none. "That's good. Really."
There was a small pause before she tilted her head.
"Did you tell her about our past?"
Ray nodded. "Yep. She knows."
Emma raised an eyebrow slowly. "And she still let you come here and spend time with me? I thought she'd be like, 'Oh no, she will steal my man.' I mean, she gave me that vibe back then."
Ray chuckled and leaned back against the booth. "We have this rule where we don't lie to each other about our feelings or anything that would affect our relationship. We trust each other. And right now, our relationship is kind of complicated, in a good way."
The food arrived. Plates were set down. They thanked the waitress.
The omelet was thick and steaming, the waffles smelled like blueberries and butter, and the turkey sandwich looked big enough to feed two people, plus the orange juice looked fresh.
They ate for a minute, comfortable silence settling in.
Emma wiped her mouth with a napkin and looked at him again. "Complicated how, if you don't mind me asking?"
Ray took a sip of orange juice and considered her for a moment. "Promise not to judge us?"
Emma leaned forward, elbows on the table, curiosity fully engaged. "Oh, now this is getting interesting. Alright. Promise."
Ray explained his relationship status and how he was dating and living with three girls together, happily. And there were no lies involved.
Emma stared at him as her thoughts ran wild. 'He's having threesomes? No! Wait a minute, with him, it's a foursome. No, what? What the hell am I even thinking? He looks happy and the girls are also happy. But I need to know more from them. Humm... Rosa. Yeah, I'm gonna ask her about their whole situation... Maybe I can still... I mean, it'll be a new experience from my usual monotonous life. Maybe it'll be fun. I don't know. Argggg! Alright, tonight I'm going to ask her for a girls' night out.'
She stared a little longer.
Then she laughed once, sharp and disbelieving. "You're joking, right?"
Ray smiled, calm and unapologetic. "Nope."
Her laughter faded into stunned silence. She looked down at her plate, then back up at him. "Okay. Wow. That is not where I thought this was going."
"It never is," Ray said. "But it's honest. Nobody's being lied to. We communicate a lot."
Emma shook her head slowly, more impressed than scandalized. "I spend months convincing people that emotional honesty is important, and you casually tell me you're living in a very functional poly situation over waffles."
Ray lifted his fork. "Blueberry waffles. Important distinction."
She smiled, still processing. "I won't judge. I promised. But there are so many things I want to ask."
"Alright, go ahead," He said, taking a bite of his turkey sandwich.
"Oh, no. Not you. I'll talk to Rosa," She said.
"Ah! I see what's going on," He said with a smirk.
"No, you don't," She replied before taking a sip of her coffee.
Ray shrugged. "Rosa's better at answering those questions anyway. She doesn't sugarcoat."
"Exactly," Emma said, then took a bite of her omelet. She chewed thoughtfully, eyes drifting toward the window. "You know what's wild? A few years ago, I would've had a whole speech ready about power dynamics, emotional labor, and boundaries."
"And now?" Ray asked.
"And now," she said, smiling, "I'm mostly just curious how you all manage groceries."
Ray laughed. "Color-coded shelves. A shared app. And one strict rule about not eating Amy's labeled leftovers unless you want a lecture and a spreadsheet."
Emma winced. "Yeah, no. I respect my life too much for that."
They ate for a bit, conversation drifting easily again. Travel stories. Bad hotel coffee. Emma told him about a panel in Berlin that went off the rails when someone tried to explain feminism using Game of Thrones metaphors. Ray told her about Jake trying to pitch a true crime podcast that somehow involved sound effects and costumes.
Emma told him that she saw the dance show with Gina.
"No, you saw that?" He asked.
"Yes. Never knew you were a dancer," She replied.
"Well, there are too many things you don't know about me."
"Says the one who disappeared without a word."
"Okay, my bad. You still angry about that?" Ray asked with a chuckle.
"No, you already told me your situation, so more than angry, it felt like you were distancing yourself from me. I mean, you could've at least called or sent a text," Emma said as she finished her coffee.
"I've already apologized for that," Ray replied with a sigh.
"It'll take more than just an apology or two," She said.
"Okay, what do you want instead of an apology?" Ray said as he called the waitress for the bill.
"I'll text you tomorrow with the details."
"Looking forward to it." He nodded.
The waitress came, and Ray took out his wallet and paid for the food. He also left a tip for the waitress.
"You held back," Emma said as she stood up.
"Nah, just a little rusty. Next time, I'm gonna win," Ray replied. He stood up and both of them walked toward the door.