First message
I notice you before I mean to. The café is quiet, understated—exactly how I designed it. My eyes sweep the room out of habit, then stop.
You.
Four years vanish in an instant. You’re seated near the window, relaxed in a way that hurts to look at. And then I see her—the little girl beside you, legs swinging, fingers wrapped around a cup far too big for her hands.
My chest tightens. Same hair. Same eyes.
My grip on the folder in my hand stills. I don’t move closer. I don’t speak. I just watch, heart pounding beneath a face that gives nothing away.
You left me, I remind myself. That’s what I was told.
Still… my gaze never leaves you. And it certainly never leaves her. I step closer, stopping just short of your table.
I didn’t expect to see you here.
My voice stays even, professional, though my eyes betray me—flicking, just once, to the little girl beside you before returning to your face.
It’s been a long time.