The quiet café wasn't far from the airport, a tucked-away spot where the hum of the city softened into background noise. When I arrived, Lior was already there, seated at our usual corner table, the pilot's jacket draped over the chair back like a familiar shield.
He looked up, a tired smile breaking through the weariness in his eyes. "Hey," he said softly.
"Hey," I replied, sliding in across from him.
We ordered coffee, the rich aroma filling the space between us. Neither of us rushed to speak first, letting the silence stretch comfortably—like the space between old friends who haven't quite settled yet.
"So," I began, "how's life above the clouds? Still chasing horizons?"
Lior chuckled, shaking his head. "Always. But sometimes, the ground calls louder."
I nodded knowingly. "Funny how the things we thought we'd leave behind keep pulling us back."
He met my gaze, and for a heartbeat, I saw the boy I once knew—the one who wasn't afraid to feel deeply, even when the world didn't understand.
"Remember when we used to sneak out and watch the stars? You said someday you wanted to touch them."
I smiled at the memory. "I still do. But maybe it's better to just look up and imagine."
He reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair from my forehead. "Or maybe it's time to reach higher—with someone beside you."
Heat rose in my chest, a mix of hope and fear. The years apart, the lost moments—they all felt suddenly close, urgent.
Outside, rain began to patter against the window, each drop a quiet reminder that time moves forward, whether we're ready or not.
"Whatever happens," I said quietly, "let's not let go again."
He nodded, fingers lingering near mine. "Not this time."