Chapter 1: The Ghost of You

Lena sat at the corner of her favorite café, her fingers tracing the rim of her coffee cup absentmindedly. The café was bustling, as usual, with the warm hum of conversation and the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee filling the air. She had always loved this place—the wooden tables, the soft jazz music playing in the background, the quiet buzz of people who seemed to live in their own little worlds while sipping their drinks. It was a corner of the city that felt like hers, a place she could go to escape everything else. It had been her sanctuary for the last few years, where she could hide away from the chaos of her thoughts.

But today, the warmth of the room felt suffocating. Her usual comfort was replaced by an overwhelming sense of unease. There was a tightness in her chest, a knot that refused to loosen. She stared at the swirls in her coffee, watching the steam rise in delicate tendrils, wishing she could lose herself in the simplicity of the moment. But instead, her mind kept drifting back to the one thing she couldn't escape.

Him.

Ethan.

She hadn't seen him in years—six, to be exact. And yet, there were days when it felt like he was still there, hovering at the edges of her thoughts. A name, a smile, a touch—little fragments of him that slipped into her mind uninvited, reminding her of the life they almost had. Of the love they once shared.

The door to the café swung open, and the sound of the bell overhead jingled like a small alarm bell in her head. She glanced up, her gaze falling on the entrance, then quickly shifted away, hoping she hadn't been noticed. But it was too late. There was no way to ignore it now.

Her heart skipped a beat.

It was him.

Ethan stood there in the doorway, looking just as she remembered—tall, with that messy dark hair he always ran his hand through when he was nervous, and those eyes, the ones that had once seen straight through her. His face was more mature now, a little sharper around the edges, but there was something familiar in the way he stood, the way his presence filled the room. He had always had that effect on her. His mere presence could make her feel both incredibly alive and completely vulnerable at the same time.

She didn't move. She couldn't. Time seemed to freeze, just for a moment, as their eyes met across the crowded room.

For a second, it felt like nothing had changed. Like no time had passed, no heartbreak had occurred, no distance had grown between them. It was just him, standing there, looking at her in the same way he used to, as if they were still a part of each other's world.

But then reality crashed in, the silence stretching too long, too painfully. She felt the weight of the years between them, the space that had been carved out by all the things left unsaid, all the feelings that had been buried too deep to acknowledge. He wasn't supposed to be here. Not like this. Not after everything that had happened.

Lena swallowed hard, trying to gather her thoughts, but her mind felt like a storm—rushing, tumbling, chaotic. She hadn't prepared for this moment. There had been no plan, no warning. She had told herself she was over it. Over him. But seeing him again, so suddenly, made everything she had worked so hard to bury feel fresh again, raw, like an open wound she couldn't heal.

As if on instinct, her hand reached for her phone, fingers trembling slightly as she checked the screen, her gaze scanning the messages she'd been ignoring all morning. A text from her mom, a work-related email, a reminder from her calendar—but nothing that could stop her from feeling the pull of the past.

She looked back up, hoping he wouldn't notice her staring. But of course, he had. His gaze had already found hers, and now, there was no turning back.

Her heart was hammering in her chest, and she felt a sudden rush of heat flood her face. She was nervous, not because she didn't want to see him—no, it was because she wasn't sure what seeing him again would mean. She wasn't sure what she was even supposed to say. Did time really heal wounds? Or did it just make them easier to ignore?

Taking a deep breath, she pushed herself to stand, her legs a little shaky beneath her. She hadn't been prepared for this. No one could prepare for running into the ghost of a past you thought you'd left behind.

As she made her way toward him, every step felt heavier than the last. She was aware of the sound of her own footsteps, the clatter of mugs and glasses around her, the chatter that seemed to echo in her ears as her mind raced. What do you say to someone who was once your entire world but is now a stranger?

When she reached him, he hadn't moved, still standing there in the same spot, eyes fixed on her with a mixture of surprise and something else she couldn't quite place. Recognition, maybe. Regret. Or maybe it was just the same feeling she had—the overwhelming sense that everything had changed, but somehow, nothing had changed at all.

Lena opened her mouth, but no words came. It felt like the air had thickened, like the space between them had become impossibly vast.

"Lena?" His voice broke through the tension, low and tentative, as if unsure whether he should speak or wait for her to say something first.

She looked up at him, meeting his gaze. "I didn't expect to see you here," she said, the words slipping out more awkwardly than she intended. She instantly regretted the way they sounded—so casual, so impersonal. But what was she supposed to say? That she had spent the last few years trying to move on from him, from them? That she had spent sleepless nights wondering what had gone wrong?

"Neither did I," he replied, his voice laced with a soft laugh, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. They were still looking at each other, but there was a distance now, one that wasn't there the last time they had been together. A gulf that neither of them knew how to cross.

They both stood there, unsure of what to do next, as if time had somehow suspended itself around them. Six years—six years of living without each other—and yet, it felt like nothing had really changed.

"So… how have you been?" he asked, the question hanging in the air between them, loaded with more meaning than a simple greeting.

Lena hesitated. How could she answer that? How could she sum up everything she had been through, everything she had felt in the years since they had parted ways? She could tell him she was fine, that she had moved on, that life had gone on without him. But it would be a lie. Because part of her had never truly moved on. A part of her had always kept the space between them, open and waiting, even when she pretended to be over him.

"I've been… good," she said at last, her voice sounding small in her own ears. She swallowed, trying to push down the lump in her throat. "You?"

Ethan nodded, his eyes searching hers, as if looking for the answer he already knew. "Yeah, I'm good," he said, his voice tinged with a touch of uncertainty. "Been busy. You know, life."

Lena nodded, her gaze flickering to the table between them, the distance now filled with awkward silence. What was supposed to come next? What was the proper thing to say after all this time? After all the hurt?

"I didn't expect… this," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, more to herself than to him. The words seemed to hang in the air, their weight heavier than anything she could have anticipated.

Ethan's eyes softened, and for the briefest of moments, the space between them seemed to shrink. He reached out, as if instinctively, his hand hovering just above hers on the table. The gesture was tentative, unsure, but it was enough to send a jolt of electricity through her.

For a fleeting moment, Lena could almost convince herself that everything was still the same—that they were still the same people who once shared everything. But then the distance between them crashed back in, a reminder of all the things left unsaid, the time that had passed, the people they had become.

Lena took a step back, suddenly feeling the weight of the years between them. "I should go," she said, her voice trembling with an emotion she couldn't name.

Ethan nodded, his expression unreadable. "Yeah… of course."

She turned to leave, but before she could walk away, his hand reached out again. This time, he didn't hesitate.

"Lena," he said softly, his voice heavy with something unspoken. "I… I didn't mean for things to end like this."

Lena looked back at him, her heart racing. There was so much she wanted to say, so many things she wanted to ask. But she knew, deep down, that some things didn't have answers. Some things were left unfinished, and no matter how much time passed, they always would be.

With one final glance at him, she turned and walked away, leaving the café and the ghost of him behind.