I told myself I wouldn't go back.
I still went.
9:17 p.m.
He was there.
But this time, he wasn't in the corner.
He was sitting at my table.
My chest tightened.
He didn't move when I approached. Didn't apologize. Didn't explain.
He just watched me walk toward him like he had been waiting for this exact moment.
"For someone who doesn't know me," I said, forcing calm into my voice, "you're getting very comfortable."
His eyes traced my face slowly. Not disrespectful. Not rushed.
Intent."You came anyway," he replied.
I hated that he was right.
I pulled out the chair across from him and sat down.
Too close.
The table suddenly felt too small. The air too thick.
"You said I'm remembering," I said. "What does that mean?"
He leaned forward slightly.Not enough to touch me.
But enough that I could feel the warmth of him.
"Your body remembers before your mind does," he said quietly.
A strange heat rushed through me, and I didn't understand why.
"Stop speaking in riddles," I whispered.
His gaze dropped briefly to my lips.
Then back to my eyes.
And something shifted.
Not fear.
Not confusion.
Something heavier.
"You used to sit this close to me," he said. "Closer, actually."
My heart started beating louder."That's impossible."
"Nothing about this is impossible," he replied softly.
Silence fell between us again, but this one felt different.
Charged.
Like the space between us was alive.
Then he did it.
Slowly… carefully… like he was handling something fragile…
He reached across the table and touched my wrist.
Right where the faint scar was.
My breath hitched.
His fingers were warm. Steady.
And the moment his skin touched mine…
A sharp, dizzy feeling rushed through my head.
A flash.A room.
Dark.
His voice.
My laughter.
Gone.
I pulled my hand back quickly.
"What did you just do?" I breathed.
His eyes searched my face.
"Did you see something?"
I couldn't answer.
Because I wasn't sure.
But my heart was racing for a reason I couldn't explain.
"You're not scared of me," he said quietly."I should be."
"But you're not."
And he was right again.
I wasn't.
That realization scared me more than anything else.
"Why does this feel…" I hesitated.
He waited.
"…familiar?"
His expression softened in a way that made my chest ache.
Because it didn't look like a stranger looking at me.
It looked like someone who had missed me.
"Because you loved me once," he said.My breath stopped.
The world around us faded into a blur.
"That's not funny," I whispered.
"I'm not joking."
I searched his face for signs of a lie.
Found none.
"That's impossible," I repeated, but this time it sounded weaker.
"Is it?" he asked gently.
I couldn't think.
Couldn't breathe properly.
Couldn't understand why a part of me didn't want him to be lying.
Then he said the one thing that made my chest tighten in a way I didn't recognize.
"You were the one who walked away."I stared at him.
And for the first time…
I wanted to know the truth more than I wanted to run from it.