The café smelled faintly of roasted beans and sugar, the kind of place Aria loved dragging us to. She sat across from me, stirring her strawberry parfait like it was the most important task in the world, her eyes bright with the same determination she'd shown at the park.
Kael, meanwhile, sat beside her, his untouched coffee cooling by the minute. His silence wasn't new, but today it felt sharp, deliberate.
"See?" Aria said, finally looking up, spoon pointing toward the three of us. "This is nice. Just like we used to do."
I managed a small smile. "It is."
Kael's eyes flicked to me, then back to Aria. "It's not the same," he muttered, almost too low to hear.
Aria froze, her spoon clinking against the glass. "Kael…"
"What?" His tone wasn't angry, but it carried that quiet edge he sometimes had, the kind that left no room for laughter. "Back then, it was easier. No… complications."
I felt the meaning of his words settle between us like dust. Aria's fingers tightened around her spoon, and for once, she didn't have a quick comeback.
"Kael," I said carefully, "you don't have to turn this into something it's not."
His gaze snapped to me then, sharp and unblinking. "Isn't it? You and Aria—" He stopped, jaw tightening, then shook his head. "Forget it."
Aria reached for his hand, her expression soft, almost pleading. "You're overthinking everything. Elias has always been with us. Always will be."
But Kael didn't take her hand. Instead, he folded his arms across his chest, eyes fixed on the window as if the world outside offered him an escape.
The silence stretched, too fragile to touch.
That's when the bell above the café door chimed. Seren stepped inside, sunlight trailing behind her like a shadow that didn't belong here. She carried her ever-present book against her chest, pausing only briefly to glance in our direction.
Her eyes met mine for the briefest moment. A quiet acknowledgment. Nothing more. But in that second, I felt the knot in my chest loosen ever so slightly.
Then she was gone, slipping into a seat by the window, disappearing into her pages as though she'd never been here at all.
Aria tried to fill the silence again, her voice bright but strained. "Next week, we should go to the lake. Remember how we used to race to the dock?"
Her smile didn't reach her eyes. Kael didn't answer.
And me? I stirred my drink slowly, watching the cracks in our friendship widen, delicate and dangerous, like glass about to shatter.
Aria leaned forward, her smile dimming as she reached across the table. "Kael, look at me."
He didn't. His eyes stayed locked on the window, jaw clenched tight. I could almost hear the words he was holding back.
"You're imagining things again," she said softly, her hand brushing against his arm. "Elias is our friend. Nothing's changed."
Kael let out a short, bitter laugh. "Everything's changed."
The words stung in ways I couldn't explain.
Aria's face fell, her hand retreating slowly, as though she had touched fire. "Why would you even say that?"
Kael finally turned his gaze toward her, not me. His voice was steady, but his expression betrayed him. "Because when I look at you, Aria… it feels like I'm sharing you. And I don't know if I can do that."
The spoon slipped from her fingers, clattering against the glass. She sat frozen, torn between anger and sadness, her lips parted but no words coming out.
I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. The air felt suffocating, pressing against my chest. I wanted to speak, to cut through the silence, but every possible word seemed like it would make things worse.
From the corner of my eye, I caught Seren looking up from her book. Just for a moment. Her gaze was calm, steady — the kind of look that said she understood without needing to hear the details. Then, quietly, she lowered her eyes back to the page, vanishing again into her quiet world.
Aria finally found her voice, trembling but determined. "You don't have to share me, Kael. I chose you. I've always chosen you."
Her words were meant to soothe, but instead, they cut. Because in that moment, I realized the truth of it. Whatever promises we'd made under the fireflies, whatever games we'd played as children, things had shifted.
Kael was her choice.
And me… I was just the shadow of what used to be.
I forced a smile, though it didn't reach my eyes. "She's right, Kael. You don't have to worry about me."
But Kael's stare didn't soften. If anything, it hardened, as if my reassurance only made him doubt more.
Aria, desperate to hold the fragile pieces together, reached for both of us again. Her small hands trembled as they tried to bridge the distance.
"Can't we just… stay like this?" she whispered, her voice breaking. "Please. The three of us. Isn't that enough?"
None of us answered.
And in the quiet that followed, I knew: a fragile afternoon could only hold so much weight before it shattered.
Aria's hands trembled as she tried to hold both of ours across the table.
"Please," she whispered, voice breaking. "Don't let it end here. Not like this. Let's go to the lake. Just once more. Like when we were kids."
Kael said nothing, his jaw tight, but he stood abruptly and walked toward the door. Aria scrambled after him, tossing me a desperate look over her shoulder.
And even though my chest ached, I followed. Because some promises — even broken ones — don't let you walk away so easily.