The morning sun glinted off the snow, making the town shimmer as though dusted in diamonds. Annalise wrapped her scarf tightly around her neck and stepped out of the inn, determination in her stride. She had errands to run: groceries for the small inn kitchen where she'd rented a room, a visit to the library to check on some old town records, and perhaps, she admitted quietly to herself, a lingering hope that she would see Liam again.
The first "unexpected encounter" came sooner than she anticipated. She rounded the corner toward the bakery, her boots crunching against fresh snow, only to find Liam—again—emerging from the doorway, a bag of pastries in hand. He froze when he saw her, his eyebrows lifting slightly.
"Annalise," he said, a mixture of surprise and warmth in his voice. "Back for round three?"
She laughed, adjusting her mittens. "I didn't plan it. You're just… everywhere."
He smirked. "I live here. It's a small town. You're bound to run into me."
She shook her head, but a smile tugged at her lips. "Seems fate is persistent."
He handed her a pastry from his bag. "Here. For old times' sake."
She hesitated, then accepted it. "You always did know how to make people feel welcome."
Their fingers brushed briefly, sending a familiar shiver up her arm. Neither of them commented on it, but the subtle touch lingered in her mind long after.
Later that afternoon, Annalise decided to stroll toward the park, hoping to clear her thoughts. She had meant to walk alone, to reflect on the memories that crowded her mind. But as she rounded the frozen fountain in the square, there he was again—Liam, talking to Mrs. Harland, the town librarian. His laughter rang out, carrying across the snow-covered plaza.
He spotted her and waved, his smile radiant, almost boyish. "Fancy seeing you again!"
She returned the wave, feeling both warmth and trepidation. "You really are everywhere."
"Maybe I just want to make sure you don't disappear again."
The weight of his words settled heavily in her chest. She remembered the day she had left, how he had stayed behind, hurt and bewildered, not knowing why she had vanished. And now, after all these years, he still seemed to care.
"I… I'm trying not to this time," she said softly.
He studied her for a moment, the wind lifting strands of hair around his face. "Good. I'd like that."
By mid-afternoon, she found herself wandering down Elm Street, past the bookstore and the small café where she and Liam had spent countless afternoons. She paused outside the bookstore, her breath fogging the glass. The scent of old pages and ink seemed to seep through the window, pulling her inside. She pushed the door open, and a bell jingled above her head.
"Annalise?"
She froze. Liam was leaning against the counter, a book in his hand, looking entirely too comfortable.
"Liam…" she breathed, feeling her cheeks flush.
He grinned, lowering the book. "Guess I can't escape you either."
"Apparently not," she replied, trying to sound casual as her heart raced.
Inside, the bookstore was warm and quiet, the smell of paper and pine-scented candles wrapping around them. Liam wandered over to a shelf and pulled out an old children's book. "Remember this?" he asked, handing it to her.
She took it carefully, the corners worn from years of use. "Our favorite story," she whispered. "You read it to me every winter when the snow was too heavy to go outside."
He smiled, watching her closely. "You always pretended you didn't like it."
"I did like it," she admitted, laughing softly. "I just didn't want to admit it to you."
The conversation flowed easily, memories surfacing as if no time had passed at all. And yet, beneath the laughter and nostalgia, a quiet tension simmered. Each glance lingered longer than it should, each touch accidental yet electric. They both knew that the past was never far behind, whispering doubts and hesitations.
That evening, Annalise stopped at the town square to watch the snow begin to fall again. The streetlamps cast golden pools of light across the white landscape, and the town felt like a scene from a storybook. She heard footsteps behind her and turned—sure enough, Liam had appeared once more.
"You really can't stay away, can you?" she teased, though there was no bite in her voice.
"I could say the same to you," he replied, walking closer. His hands were shoved into his coat pockets, but his posture betrayed nervousness. "Do you… want to walk?"
She nodded, and together they strolled through the quiet streets, their breaths misting in the cold air. Silence stretched comfortably between them at first, punctuated only by the soft crunch of snow beneath their boots.
Then Liam spoke, his voice low. "I've thought about you, you know… every year since you left."
She looked at him, startled. "Every year?"
"Yes." He stopped, turning to face her fully. "I wondered if you ever thought about coming back. About us."
Her stomach fluttered. "I… I did. I thought about it all the time. But I didn't know if I could face you—or the town—or even myself."
He reached for her hand, brushing it lightly with his fingers. "You don't have to face it alone," he said softly. "I've been waiting. And I'm still here."
The world seemed to shrink around them, leaving only the two of them amidst the softly falling snow. Annalise felt a warmth bloom in her chest, a mixture of relief, hope, and the stirring of old feelings she had thought long buried.
"You're here now," she whispered, "so… maybe we can start over?"
Liam's eyes softened, a gentle smile tugging at his lips. "Maybe we can."
As they walked back toward the inn, side by side, Annalise felt a cautious optimism she hadn't felt in years. Every glance, every brush of fingers, every shared laugh reminded her that the bond they had forged as children had never truly broken. It had been hidden, waiting beneath layers of time and snow, ready to thaw in the warmth of a second chance.