The little café by the canal was just as I remembered — worn wooden tables, the soft scent of roasted coffee beans, and walls lined with faded photographs of the city's past.
Lior was already there when I arrived, sitting by the window, sunlight catching the gold stripes on his pilot's jacket. He looked up and smiled — shy, genuine, the same way he had when we were twelve, confessing things we didn't fully understand.
"Hey," I said, sliding into the seat opposite him.
"Hey," he replied, voice quiet but steady.
For a moment, neither of us spoke. Instead, we watched the world outside the window — boats drifting down the canal, couples strolling hand in hand, the city moving on like nothing had changed.
"Do you remember that summer," I finally said, "when we used to race down these streets on our bikes, daring each other to go faster?"
"Well, if it isn't the fastest kid in Aldrene," he teased.
I slid into the seat across from him, grinning. "Still faster. But you? You fly planes now. I'm just stuck with microscopes and crime scenes."
"Sounds way cooler," he said, eyes twinkling.
I shook my head. "Not as cool as chasing you down these streets on our bikes."
Lior laughed, the sound light but tinged with something softer. "You always won."
"Because I cheated," I admitted, grinning. "But you never got mad."
He shook his head. "I was too busy trying to catch up."
The silence between us grew comfortable — easy.
"Lior," I said carefully, "I've thought about you every day for the last ten years. Not like a memory, but like… a story waiting to be finished."
He met my eyes, steady and unflinching. "Me too."
His smile faltered for a moment, eyes catching mine with a sudden seriousness. "You know, I never forgot. That summer. When we told each other... something."
I swallowed. "Yeah. We knew it was different. But neither of us was ready."
"I still remember when we told each other we felt something different," I added. "We didn't know it was love. We just knew it wasn't ordinary."
Lior nodded slowly. "I was never afraid we were boys. I just thought maybe it wasn't time."
"Maybe it wasn't," I said. "But maybe now it is."
His smile was small, hopeful. "I want to find out. Can we try it together what was in our regret?"
Outside, the sun dipped lower, casting gold across the canal's ripples.
Outside, the café door opened with a chime, breaking the moment. A waitress called out, "Last call before closing."
Lior glanced at his watch. "I've got a flight early tomorrow."
"Then let's make every second count," I said, a spark lighting in my chest.
He smirked, grabbing his cup. "I like the sound of that."
As we talked into the evening, laughter mixed with confession, the past and future tangled in every word.
For the first time in a decade, the story between us felt ready to be written.
For the first time in years, the story between us felt like it was finally unfolding — fast, messy, and impossible to ignore.