Elara stared at the message for a long time, the words blurring on her screen.
I'm back.
Two simple words, but they cracked open everything she had spent three years trying to bury. Her chest tightened, her breath unsteady. Adrian—the boy who once promised forever and left before the ink on that promise could dry—was back.
Her fingers hovered over the keyboard. What was she supposed to say? Welcome home? I missed you? Why now?
Instead, she typed:
> How did you get my number?
A few seconds later, the reply came.
> Adrian: Still the same number, El. I just took a chance.
El.
The nickname only he used.
She set her phone down before she could spiral. The rain had stopped, but her thoughts still poured relentlessly. She stood up, pacing her apartment, glancing at the box of letters on her desk. Her heart whispered don't answer, but curiosity—no, something deeper—pulled stronger.
Another message buzzed.
> Adrian: I'd like to see you. Just once. If you're okay with that.
Elara sank into the couch. Her mind flashed through old memories—long walks under streetlights, his laughter echoing in empty hallways, the goodbye she never wanted. She didn't know if she could face him. Not after all the words she'd written but never sent.
Yet somehow, her fingers typed back:
> Where?
---
The café was quiet when she arrived, its familiar smell of brewed coffee and cinnamon wrapping around her like a half-forgotten dream. She chose a corner seat, back to the window, just like old times.
Every passing second stretched, each sound magnified—the clinking of spoons, the soft music, her own heartbeat.
Then, the bell over the door rang.
Elara looked up.
There he was.
Adrian.
He looked almost the same—taller maybe, older, his eyes a little more tired but still warm. When his gaze met hers, everything she thought she had forgotten came rushing back.
He smiled, the kind of smile that used to undo her completely.
"Hey," he said softly, sitting across from her. "You look… different."
"So do you," she replied, voice barely above a whisper.
Silence settled between them—thick, heavy, filled with everything they hadn't said.
Finally, Adrian leaned forward. "I didn't think you'd actually come."
"I didn't think you'd actually ask," Elara answered.
He smiled again, sad this time. "I owe you an apology."
"For leaving?" she asked, her tone sharper than she intended.
"For not writing back," he said.
Her breath caught. The words hit like a quiet storm.
He didn't know.
He never knew about the letters.
She looked away, blinking fast. The box of sealed envelopes flashed in her mind—hundreds of unsent goodbyes.
And now, here he was.
Maybe it wasn't too late.
Or maybe it was just the beginning of another heartbreak.