Chapter Four:

It wasn't abrupt. It wasn't angry. But it was final.

"I think I'll give you two some space," he said, his voice tight. "Clearly you've got a lot to catch up on."

Mia's heart twisted. "Ethan—"

He looked down at her, and for a moment, his eyes softened. But there was pain there too—quiet and patient, the kind that didn't scream but stayed.

"I'll see you later," he said.

And then he was gone.

The door closed behind him with a soft chime, and Mia felt something break.

She stared down at her coffee, now gone cold. Luca said nothing at first. He just watched her, like he was trying to read the thoughts she didn't have words for.

"You still love him," he said at last.

She looked up, startled.

Luca smiled faintly. "I could see it. The way you looked at him. The way he looked at you."

Mia hesitated. "It's not that simple."

He nodded slowly. "No. It never is."

A silence settled over them. Not hostile, not warm—just… uncertain. Luca leaned back in his chair, folding his hands in his lap. For the first time, he looked tired.

"I'm not here to mess things up for you," he said. "I came back because I needed to know. If there was still something between us. If you still felt it too."

Mia looked away, her eyes stinging. "I don't know what I feel, Luca. I haven't since the moment you walked back in."

And that was the truth.

Mia sat in the silence that followed, her hands wrapped around her now-cold mug, eyes fixed on a spot somewhere beyond the window. The light outside had shifted. Late afternoon shadows stretched long across the pavement, smearing the golden warmth of autumn into something quieter. More fragile.

Luca hadn't moved. He was still sitting across from her, his gaze steady, but softened. He didn't press her for answers. And for that, she was grateful.

But the questions had already taken root.

What do you feel?

Who do you love?

The truth was, she didn't know how to untangle it all. The feelings didn't separate easily. They overlapped like seasons, one bleeding into the next without ever fully letting go of the last.

She leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes.

And just like that, the past came rushing back.

It had been summer.

The kind of summer that left its mark—sunburns, grass stains, kisses that lingered too long, and promises whispered under a sky so wide it felt like anything was possible.

Luca had taken her hand that night—just days before he vanished—and led her down to the old dock by the river. The air had smelled like honeysuckle and warm earth. The water glimmered with the reflection of a thousand stars.

"I don't want this to end," she had whispered, curling her fingers around his.

He hadn't answered right away. Instead, he'd looked at her like he was memorizing her face. The weight of his silence had set off a warning in her chest, but she'd ignored it. She hadn't wanted to believe what she already knew.

When he kissed her that night, it was different. Slower. Sadder.

And when she woke up the next morning, he was gone.

No message. No explanation. Just an echo where his voice used to be.

She opened her eyes slowly, blinking the memory away.

The ache was still there, just beneath the surface. But time had dulled it. Or maybe Ethan had.

Ethan, who had seen her at her worst and stayed. Who had waited outside her door with coffee after her nightmares. Who had once stood in the pouring rain with her for two hours just because she said she didn't want to go home yet.

Their friendship had always been a thread she could hold onto when everything else frayed. And then… it had shifted.

That night in September.

They'd been sitting on the rooftop of Kira's building, the city spread out below them in a wash of lights. He'd leaned in—hesitant, unsure—and kissed her like he was asking a question with no pressure for an answer.

And she hadn't pulled away.

She hadn't kissed him back right away either.

But she hadn't pulled away.

She had felt safe. Seen. And for a moment, she'd thought maybe love didn't have to be a firestorm. Maybe it could be something quieter. Something that grew slowly, like ivy, instead of striking like lightning.

But now… Luca was back. And the storm had returned with him.

"You okay?" Luca asked gently, breaking the silence.

Mia looked at him. 

He was still beautiful. Still magnetic. But there was something different, too. A tiredness behind his eyes. A hint of humility. Life had touched him since they last met. Worn him down in ways he hadn't shared yet.

"I don't know," she admitted.

Luca nodded. "I didn't come here to force anything, Mia. I just needed to see you. Even if it's just once."

She believed him.

But that didn't make it easier.

"You hurt me," she said quietly.

"I know."

"You didn't just break my heart. You broke me."

Her voice cracked then, just a little, and she hated how raw it sounded.

Luca looked stricken. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "More than I know how to say."

And maybe he was. Maybe he really meant it. But apologies didn't stitch closed the parts of her that had stayed open far too long.

Mia stood up slowly, placing her mug on the edge of the table. "I need time."

Luca looked up at her. "I'll wait."

She nodded once. Then walked toward the door, her steps shaky but steadying with each stride. She didn't look back.

Outside, the late afternoon light bathed the city in amber. The wind tugged at her scarf, and the scent of cinnamon and chimney smoke curled through the air.

Mia pulled her coat tighter around her shoulders and reached for her phone.

One missed message.

Ethan:

I'm sorry. I shouldn't have left like that. Just—let me know you're okay.

She stared at the screen, her thumb hovering over the reply button.

Then slowly, she typed:

Mia:

I'm okay. Can we talk later?

The reply came almost instantly.

Ethan:

Always.

And just like that, something in her chest loosened.