She woke up in her childhood room, the walls still the same soft beige, the curtains fluttering with a familiar breeze. But nothing about her felt like it used to. Not after seeing Arven again. Not after that conversation.
She sat up slowly and glanced at the clock. 8:12 a.m.
The house was quiet. Her mother had gone out early to visit her aunt across town, and the silence left Lia alone with her thoughts—dangerous, lingering thoughts that refused to leave.
Her phone buzzed.
Arven:
> Coffee again today?
She stared at the message for a few seconds before replying.
Lia:
> I thought you only came on Saturdays?
Arven:
> I'll make an exception. Meet me in an hour?
Lia hesitated, then typed back:
Lia:
> Same place?
Arven:
> Always.
By 9:10, she was already outside Willow Brew, her heart pounding as if it hadn't spent an entire night replaying yesterday's encounter on loop. She pushed the door open, and the bell chimed just like before.
He was already there.
This time, he looked up immediately, no hesitation, no surprise—just a quiet smile that reached his eyes.
"You came," he said.
"You asked," she replied, trying to sound casual, though her pulse betrayed her.
They sat in silence for a while, sipping their coffee. The café was quiet this early, only a couple in the corner and an old man reading a newspaper by the door.
"I couldn't sleep last night," Arven admitted finally. "Kept thinking about everything we said yesterday."
"Me too," Lia said, staring into her cup. "It felt like we opened a door we locked a long time ago."
"And forgot we still had the key," he added with a small smile.
She didn't smile back.
"I'm not trying to rush into anything, Arven," she said carefully. "I came back for myself. To find out who I was before everything got complicated."
"I know," he said. "And I'm not asking for anything. I just… missed you. That's all."
There was something honest in his tone that made her chest tighten.
"You know what scares me the most?" she said quietly. "That we're just two people holding on to an old version of each other."
He didn't answer right away.
"Maybe," he said finally. "But what if the old version was the best part of us?"
She looked up at him, eyes searching for something she couldn't name.
"You're not the boy I left behind," she said.
"And you're not the girl who left," he replied. "But that doesn't mean we can't meet each other here—now—as who we are."
Lia swallowed hard. "Do you believe in second chances?"
"I do," he said. "But only if both people are brave enough to take them."
She looked away. The sunlight through the window hit the table in soft angles. Everything felt like it was holding still.
"I'm still figuring things out," she whispered.
"I'm okay with that," he said. "As long as you're here."
Silence fell again, not awkward, just full of unsaid things.
After a moment, Lia spoke.
"I used to think moving on meant forgetting," she said. "But now I think it means understanding."
"Understanding what?"
"Why it mattered in the first place," she said. "Why it still does."
Arven nodded, his expression unreadable.
"Do you want to go for a walk?" he asked.
She blinked. "Now?"
He shrugged. "There's a path by the river. We used to walk there every Sunday afternoon. You remember?"
"I remember everything," she said quietly.
They left the café side by side, steps falling into an old rhythm. The river was calm today, the path still lined with trees that had grown taller in their absence.
"Funny how nothing really changes here," Lia said.
"Except us," Arven replied.
They walked for a while in silence.
Then, suddenly, he stopped.
"You know," he said, looking out at the water, "I used to come here and talk to you. Not the real you—just… the version I held in my head."
Lia turned to him. "What did you say?"
"Everything I never got to say before you left," he said with a dry laugh. "Mostly stupid things. But sometimes real ones. Like how angry I was. How much I missed you. How scared I was to let anyone else in."
She felt a lump form in her throat.
"I wish I could've heard them," she said softly.
"Maybe you still can," he said. "If you let me say them now."
Lia nodded, eyes glistening. "I'm listening."
Arven took a breath.
"I missed you. More than I admitted. I hated you for a while. Not because you left—but because you never explained why. I kept waiting for a letter, a call, anything."
"I didn't know how to face you," she whispered.
"I know," he said. "But that doesn't mean it didn't hurt."
They stood there, two people holding years between them.
"You once told me love doesn't fix people," she said. "But maybe it helps them heal."
"Maybe," he agreed.
She looked at him, really looked. And for the first time in years, she didn't feel the need to protect herself.
She just felt… ready.
"Let's take it one day at a time," she said.
He smiled. "That's more than I hoped for."
They walked on, not holding hands, not saying anything more.
But somehow, it was enough.
Lia sat by the window in her old room, the one she hadn't entered in years. The walls were still painted soft blue, and the corner where she used to hide her journals was untouched. But everything felt smaller now. Or maybe she had just grown too far away from this place.
The rain hadn't stopped since that afternoon in the café.
She touched her lips absentmindedly, remembering Arven's voice—quiet, steady, filled with so much unsaid. His eyes had not changed. They still held her the way no one else ever could. And when he took her hand across that coffee table, she could barely breathe.
A knock at the door broke her thoughts.
It was her aunt, the only family she had left in town.
"You're quiet," Aunt Marie said gently, stepping into the room. "That usually means your heart's making too much noise."
Lia smiled faintly. "It's strange being back."
Marie sat on the edge of the bed. "Strange doesn't mean wrong."
"I saw him."
She didn't need to say the name.
Marie nodded slowly. "And?"
"It felt like I'd never left. And like I'd been gone forever."
Marie studied her face, then reached over to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
"You don't look lost," she said quietly. "You look like someone who's finally ready to stop running."
Lia lowered her eyes. "What if it's too late?"
"Honey," her aunt said, "love doesn't keep time like the rest of the world does. Sometimes it waits. Sometimes it grows roots in silence."
A soft vibration startled them both—Lia's phone.
One new message.
From an unknown number.
> You're back. And so is he. Are you sure this is what you want? – N
Her fingers trembled slightly. She didn't reply.
"Everything okay?" Marie asked.
Lia hesitated. "Maybe just someone from the past."
---
The next morning, Lia returned to Willow Brew.
She wasn't sure if she expected Arven to be there again. But he was. Sitting in the same spot. Same table. Different shirt. Same eyes.
"Twice in one week?" he said as she approached. "I must be dreaming."
She sat down across from him without a word. The silence between them felt easier now—like it was less about avoidance and more about breathing.
"I couldn't sleep," she said finally.
"I couldn't stop thinking," he replied.
There was a moment when their eyes met, and neither looked away.
"I got a message last night," she said, looking out the window. "Anonymous. Just... warning me."
Arven's expression tightened. "From who?"
"No name. Just an initial. N."
He leaned back slightly. "Nadine?"
Lia blinked. "Who?"
Arven didn't speak for a moment. Then he sighed. "She's... someone I used to see. Nothing serious."
Lia nodded slowly, unsure how she felt. "She still cares about you?"
"I don't know," he said. "But I haven't seen her in months. I told her I couldn't give
Lia sat by the window in her old room, the one she hadn't entered in years. The walls were still painted soft blue, and the corner where she used to hide her journals was untouched. But everything felt smaller now. Or maybe she had just grown too far away from this place.
The rain hadn't stopped since that afternoon in the café.
She touched her lips absentmindedly, remembering Arven's voice—quiet, steady, filled with so much unsaid. His eyes had not changed. They still held her the way no one else ever could. And when he took her hand across that coffee table, she could barely breathe.
A knock at the door broke her thoughts.
It was her aunt, the only family she had left in town.
"You're quiet," Aunt Marie said gently, stepping into the room. "That usually means your heart's making too much noise."
Lia smiled faintly. "It's strange being back."
Marie sat on the edge of the bed. "Strange doesn't mean wrong."
"I saw him."
She didn't need to say the name.
Marie nodded slowly. "And?"
"It felt like I'd never left. And like I'd been gone forever."
Marie studied her face, then reached over to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
"You don't look lost," she said quietly. "You look like someone who's finally ready to stop running."
Lia lowered her eyes. "What if it's too late?"
"Honey," her aunt said, "love doesn't keep time like the rest of the world does. Sometimes it waits. Sometimes it grows roots in silence."
A soft vibration startled them both—Lia's phone.
One new message.
From an unknown number.
> You're back. And so is he. Are you sure this is what you want? – N
Her fingers trembled slightly. She didn't reply.
"Everything okay?" Marie asked.
Lia hesitated. "Maybe just someone from the past."
---
The next morning, Lia returned to Willow Brew.
She wasn't sure if she expected Arven to be there again. But he was. Sitting in the same spot. Same table. Different shirt. Same eyes.
"Twice in one week?" he said as she approached. "I must be dreaming."
She sat down across from him without a word. The silence between them felt easier now—like it was less about avoidance and more about breathing.
"I couldn't sleep," she said finally.
"I couldn't stop thinking," he replied.
There was a moment when their eyes met, and neither looked away.
"I got a message last night," she said, looking out the window. "Anonymous. Just... warning me."
Arven's expression tightened. "From who?"
"No name. Just an initial. N."
He leaned back slightly. "Nadine?"
Lia blinked. "Who?"
Arven didn't speak for a moment. Then he sighed. "She's... someone I used to see. Nothing serious."
Lia nodded slowly, unsure how she felt. "She still cares about you?"
"I don't know," he said. "But I haven't seen her in months. I told her I couldn't give her what she wanted."
Lia stirred her coffee absently. "And what was that?"
"Me," he said simply.
Their eyes met again.
"You don't owe me explanations, Arven," she said.
"But I want to give them," he answered. "Because this time, I want to do things right."
She didn't respond right away. Her thoughts were too loud.
"I kept a box," he said after a while. "Letters I never sent. Photos. Your favorite songs on burned CDs."
"You kept all that?"
"Of course," he said, almost surprised. "You were never just someone I dated, Lia. You were the chapter I never stopped writing in my head."
She felt tears sting her eyes but held them back.
"I almost moved on," she whispered.
"I almost did too," he said. "But it never felt... finished. We never said what mattered. We just walked away."
Lia stared at him for a long moment.
Then she reached into her bag and pulled out a folded piece of paper.
"I wrote this ten years ago," she said. "But I never sent it."
He took the paper carefully, like it might fall apart in his hands.
"Can I read it?"
She nodded.
He unfolded the letter. His hands were steady, but his breath caught the moment he read the first line.
"Dear Arven,
If I were brave, I'd be writing this from across your kitchen table instead of hiding behind this page..."
He looked up halfway through.
"You were always brave," he said quietly.
"No," she replied. "I was just good at pretending."
They sat there for a long time.
And then the café door opened again.
A woman stepped in. Tall. Confident. Her eyes scanned the room and stopped when she saw them.
She smiled.
"Nadine," Arven said under his breath.
Lia turned.
The woman walked over with slow, deliberate steps.
"Wow," she said lightly. "Didn't think I'd see this reunion so soon."
"Nadine," Arven said, standing up. "This isn't a good time."
"I can see that," she replied, eyes flicking between him and Lia. "But I just thought you'd want to know... he wasn't exactly alone all this time."
"Nadine, don't," Arven said sharply.
But the damage had been done.
Lia stood slowly. Her eyes were calm, but something behind them was already closing.
"Maybe this was a mistake," she said.
"Lia—"
She shook her head.
"I'm not angry," she said. "I just need time."
And before he could reach her, before he could explain anything more, Lia walked out.
Not because she didn't love him
But because the past had a way of catching up
And sometimes love needed more than just memory
It needed trust
And time
---