The café smelled like coffee beans, cinnamon, and rain.
I noticed that the second I walked in.
Warm lights spilled across the wooden tables, catching on glass cups and half-finished pastries while conversations blended together into one steady hum. Usually, I liked this place because of how alive it felt.
Today it just made me nervous.
It's been days since my last interaction with Wren, she's been deliberately ignoring me. So I had to make a move towards reconciliation.
My eyes found Wren almost immediately behind the counter.
Of course I would find her instantly.
She moved quickly between tables with a tray balanced carefully in one hand, her dark sweater sleeves rolled slightly past her wrists. A customer said something that made her nod politely, but even from across the café I could tell the smile wasn't real.
She looked tired.
Not physically tired.
Heavy tired.
The kind people carried in their eyes.
For a second, I considered turning around and leaving.
Maybe this wasn't the right time or coming in itself was a mistake.
After what I had done, I wasn't even sure she wanted to see me.
Then Wren turned fully toward the front entrance.
Our eyes met.
Everything in her expression tightened almost instantly.
Not anger exactly.
Guarded.
Like she'd slammed a door shut the moment she saw me standing there.
I swallowed hard and walked forward anyway.
"Hey," I said carefully.
"Hi."
Short answer.
Flat tone.
Yeah. I deserved that.
My hands suddenly felt awkward at my sides. "I can leave if you want." I said calmly.
That seemed to surprise her a little.
"No," she said after a moment. "You're already here."
Something about the reply almost sounded teasing, but it vanished too quickly to tell.
I let out a quiet breath.
Good. She wasn't kicking me out yet.
"I just wanted to talk," I said. "If that's okay."
She glanced toward the counter like she was debating whether escaping into work was easier.
I quickly added, "I'm not gonna ask questions this time."
That got her attention.
For a second, something flickered across her face before disappearing again.
Finally, she nodded toward the quieter hallway near the employee area. "Five minutes."
I followed her carefully, trying not to think about how badly I had messed things up.
The hallway was quieter than the main café. The sounds of steaming milk and conversations faded into the background until all that remained was silence and the buzzing fluorescent light overhead.
Wren crossed her arms.
Defensive.
I hated knowing I was the reason for that.
For a few seconds neither of us spoke.
So I forced myself to break the silence first.
"I'm sorry."
Wren didn't react immediately.
So I continued.
"I shouldn't have looked into your past." I rubbed the back of my neck, frustrated with myself all over again. "At the time I thought maybe if I understood what happened, I'd understand you better, but honestly?" I shook my head in regret. "That was selfish."
Her gaze dropped briefly to the floor.
"You really scared me," she said quietly.
The words hit harder than I expected.
"I know."
"No," she replied softly, looking back at me. "I don't think you do."
I stayed silent.
"You don't know what it feels like when people start digging into things you're trying so hard to leave behind."
Guilt twisted heavily in my chest.
Because she was right.
I had treated her past like a mystery to solve instead of something painful she'd survived.
Wren leaned lightly against the wall beside her, staring somewhere past me now.
"I moved schools because Eastbridge got bad," she admitted.
Elias's chest tightened.
Not because he was curious anymore.
Because she sounded tired just saying it.
"At first people mostly ignored me," she continued. "Then they realized I was different."
Different.
The word sounded sharp coming from her mouth.
"You crochet during lunch," I said before thinking. "That's not really weird."
The corner of her mouth twitched faintly.
"At Eastbridge it apparently was."
I watched her fingers tighten slightly around the sleeve of her sweater.
"It started with jokes," she said quietly. "Then fake posts online. Rumors. Pictures." Her expression hardened slightly. "People there acted like not fitting in was some kind of crime."
I felt anger simmer low in my stomach.
Not loud anger. The cold kind. The dangerous kind.
"One time someone dumped juice all over my sketchbook in the cafeteria," she continued with a humorless laugh. "People recorded it instead of helping."
My jaw tightened immediately. She looked down at the floor.
"But eventually the worst part wasn't even them," she admitted softly.
I frowned slightly confused.
"I started believing what they said about me."
That sentence cracked something open inside me.
Because suddenly all the pieces made sense.
Why she kept people at a distance.
Why she dodged personal questions.
Why she looked like she was always waiting for something bad to happen.
Wren exhaled slowly.
"So when I moved here," she said, "I just wanted to start over. No rumors. No people staring at me like I'm strange."
Then her eyes lifted to mine.
"And when you started looking into my past…" Her voice thinned slightly. "It felt like Eastbridge was following me again."
I honestly felt sick.
Not dramatic sick.
Just deeply, painfully ashamed.
"I'm sorry," I said again, quieter this time. "I really am."
She studied me carefully like she was trying to decide whether she believed me.
Then she sighed softly.
"You know the annoying part?"
"What?"
"I was actually starting to trust you before all this happened."
The confession hit me straight in the chest.
Not because it made me feel good.
But because I realized I almost ruined that trust before it even fully existed.
I looked at her for a second before answering honestly.
"I'll earn it back."
One eyebrow lifted slightly. "That confident?"
I shook my head.
"No." I smiled a bit. "Just stubborn."
For the first time since I walked in, she smiled.
Small.
Tired.
But real.
And somehow that tiny smile felt more important than every answer I had tried searching for.