Liza didn't sleep. She tried. She lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying those two words over and over again.
We need to talk.
Simple. Neutral. Almost casual. But nothing about it felt casual.
It had been three months of silence, three months of forcing herself to accept that whatever she and Adrian had once been… was over. And now he was back. Or at least, his voice was.
The message still glowed on her phone screen, untouched. She had read it at least twenty times. Typed replies. Deleted them. Typed again. Deleted again. Every response felt wrong. Too eager. Too distant. Too honest. Too fake.
At 2:14 a.m., she finally sat up, her patience snapping like a thread pulled too tight.
"This is ridiculous," she muttered to herself. Her fingers moved before she could stop them.
"About what?"
She stared at the message for a second, then hit send. The moment it disappeared, her heart began to race. Too late now. The reply came faster than she expected. Almost instantly.
"Can we meet tomorrow?"
Liza's breath caught. Tomorrow? Not next week. Not "when you're free." Tomorrow.
She stood up, pacing the room. This wasn't just a casual check-in. Something had changed. Something important. Her mind raced through possibilities. Regret. Closure. Or worse, good news he felt obligated to share. Her chest tightened at that thought.
She already knew about the engagement. Not from him. From Sofia. And that had hurt more than she was willing to admit.
Liza forced herself to stop pacing. Think. Don't react. Not this time. She typed slowly.
"Where?"
Three dots appeared immediately. Then disappeared. Then appeared again. She almost smiled. He was hesitating too.
"The café on Via Roma. 10 a.m."
No greeting. No explanation. Just details. So… Adrian. Liza stared at the message for a long moment. This was happening. Whether she was ready or not.
"Okay."
She hit send before she could overthink it. And just like that, The silence between them was broken.
Morning came too quickly. Liza stood in front of her closet, arms folded, staring at rows of clothes she suddenly hated. Nothing felt right. Too formal. Too casual. Too much effort. Not enough effort.
"This is not a date," she said out loud.
Her reflection didn't look convinced. She finally chose something simple. A fitted black dress. Elegant, but understated. The kind of outfit that didn't ask for attention, but didn't ignore it either.
She paused before leaving, glancing at herself one last time. Her hair fell naturally over her shoulders. Her makeup was minimal. Controlled. Like everything else she was trying to feel.
"Just a conversation," she whispered. But her pulse said otherwise.
The café was already busy when she arrived. Sunlight filtered through the windows, warming the small tables and the quiet hum of conversation. It felt normal. Too normal.
Liza stepped inside, her eyes scanning the room. And then, she saw him.
Adrian sat at a corner table, his back straight, one hand wrapped loosely around a coffee cup. He hadn't changed. Or maybe he had, and she just couldn't see it yet.
Her breath caught anyway. For a moment, she considered turning around. Walking out. Pretending she never came. But then he looked up. And their eyes met. Time didn't slow down. It stopped. Liza felt it, the same pull, the same unspoken recognition that had always existed between them.
Three months hadn't erased it. If anything… It had sharpened it. She forced herself to move. Step by step. Until she reached the table.
"Hi," she said. Her voice was steady. Stronger than she felt.
Adrian stood up slightly, as if unsure whether to hug her or not. He didn't.
"Hi," he replied.
A beat of silence passed between them. Awkward. Heavy. Familiar.
"Sit," he said, gesturing to the chair across from him. Liza did. Carefully.
As if one wrong movement might break something fragile between them.
Up close, she noticed the details. The faint shadow of stubble along his jaw.
The tension in his shoulders. The way his eyes lingered on her just a second longer than necessary.
"You look…" he started, then stopped.
"Different?" she offered.
He shook his head slightly.
"No," he said. "The same."
Liza raised an eyebrow.
"That's not what people usually say after a divorce."
A faint smile touched his lips.
"Maybe people don't know what they're talking about."
There it was. That tone. That quiet certainty.
Liza looked away, breaking the moment.
"So," she said, folding her hands on the table. "You wanted to talk."
Adrian nodded. But he didn't speak right away. Instead, he studied her. Like he was trying to understand something. Or remember it.
Liza felt it under her skin. That gaze. It had always done something to her. Something she couldn't quite explain.
"Adrian," she said, sharper this time. "Why am I here?"
He exhaled slowly. Leaning back in his chair.
"I'm getting married," he said.
The words landed exactly the way she expected. And still, they hurt.
"I know," Liza replied, her tone neutral.
His eyes flickered with surprise.
"You do?"
"Sofia saw the announcement," she said. "Congratulations."
The word felt wrong in her mouth. Like it didn't belong there.
Adrian nodded, but something about his expression shifted. Less certain. More… complicated.
"Thank you," he said quietly.
Another silence. But this one was different. Tighter. More fragile.
"Then why are we here?" Liza asked.
Adrian hesitated. For the first time since she had known him, he hesitated.
"I thought…" he started, then stopped again.
Liza leaned forward slightly.
"Thought what?"
He met her eyes. And for a moment, she saw it. Something raw. Something unfinished.
"I thought we should talk before it happens," he said.
"Talk about what?"
"About us."
The word hung between them. Unavoidable. Unresolved. Liza let out a quiet laugh. Not amused. Just… disbelieving.
"Us?" she repeated. "There is no 'us,' Adrian. That's kind of the point of the divorce."
His jaw tightened slightly.
"I know what the divorce means."
"Do you?" she shot back. "Because calling me three months later to 'talk about us' doesn't exactly scream closure."
Adrian leaned forward now, his voice lower.
"This isn't about closure."
"Then what is it about?"
Another pause. Another hesitation. And then, he said it.
"I can't stop thinking about you."
Liza froze.
The café noise faded into the background. The world narrowing down to just this moment. This table. This sentence.
Her heart betrayed her first. Beating faster. Louder. But her expression stayed controlled. Careful.
"That's not my problem anymore," she said.
Adrian didn't look away.
"Maybe it should be."
Liza swallowed slowly.
"You're getting married."
"I know."
"Then why are we having this conversation?"
Adrian leaned back again, running a hand through his hair. Frustration slipping through his composure.
"Because I need to know," he said.
"Know what?"
His gaze locked onto hers. Steady. Unyielding.
"If it's really over."
The question hit harder than anything else he had said. Because the answer was as simple as she wanted it to be.
Liza looked at him. At the man she had loved. The man she had left. The man who was supposed to be part of her past. And for the first time since the divorce, she wasn't sure where he belonged anymore. Her fingers tightened slightly on the edge of the table.
"You're asking the wrong question," she said quietly.
Adrian frowned.
"Then what's the right one?"
Liza leaned closer. Just enough for him to feel it.
"The right question," she said, her voice almost a whisper, "is why it doesn't feel over."
Silence. Heavy. Charged. Unavoidable. And in that silence, something between them shifted again. Not back to what it was. But not forward either. Stuck. Suspended. Like gravity had stopped working.
Adrian's voice was quieter now. More dangerous.
"Then maybe," he said, "we shouldn't pretend it is."
Liza held his gaze. Her heart racing. Her mind unraveling. Because deep down, she already knew. This conversation wasn't closure. It was the beginning of something far more complicated.