The Reawakening

The courtyard was quieter than usual.

It was a Friday, and the usual buzz of students planning their weekend getaways, sleepovers, and late-night movie marathons floated distantly in the background. Ellie sat at the edge of it all, her back against a cold stone bench under the shade of a tree that had begun to lose its leaves. Autumn had crept in like a whisper—soft, sudden, and almost unnoticed. Much like the way her heart had begun aching again.

She rested her elbows on her knees, her fingers loosely interlocked. Her lunch sat untouched beside her. She wasn't hungry—not for food, anyway.

Her chest was full of things she couldn't name. Regret. Longing. Exhaustion. And something far more dangerous: hope.

The week had passed in a blur. She had tried to busy herself—throwing herself into schoolwork, joining spontaneous group chats, pretending to laugh at things that didn't make her laugh anymore. She had convinced herself that distance was strength. That avoiding Astrid was the right thing. And maybe it was.

But the feelings hadn't faded.

If anything… they had bloomed in silence, fed by the absence, watered by every imagined conversation she never had the courage to start.

Then came the sound of footsteps—familiar ones. Light. Careful.

She didn't need to look up to know who it was.

Astrid.

She heard her before she saw her. The rustling of a bag. The gentle clinking of ice. The soft, hesitant breath like Astrid was preparing for something that might hurt.

Ellie finally glanced upward.

Astrid stood there, holding two cups of iced coffee in her hands. Her uniform blazer was unbuttoned, and her hair was a little messier than usual, as if she'd been debating this moment all morning.

"Can I sit?" Astrid asked, voice quiet. Like she was asking permission not just to share the bench—but to step back into Ellie's world.

Ellie didn't respond immediately.

Everything in her said to run. To protect herself. But her heart—the traitor—pulled in the opposite direction.

She gave a small nod.

Astrid exhaled with visible relief and sat down beside her, careful not to sit too close. She placed one of the cups on the bench between them. Ellie glanced at it.

Vanilla iced coffee. Her favorite. Astrid still remembered.

"I thought maybe you could use this," Astrid said, her tone uncertain.

Ellie didn't touch the drink. Not yet.

They sat in silence for a moment, not looking at each other. Just the breeze moving through leaves, the murmur of distant conversations, and the loud beating of Ellie's heart.

Then Astrid spoke.

"I've been thinking a lot about what you said. About how I hurt you."

Ellie remained still, but her hands tensed slightly.

Astrid pressed on, "You were right. I was selfish. I ran when I should have stayed. And I told myself it was for the best, that it would hurt less this way."

She laughed bitterly, mostly to herself. "But it didn't hurt less. Not for me. And I doubt it did for you."

Ellie looked down at her hands. "It didn't."

Astrid swallowed. Her voice dropped into something softer—more sincere. "I regret it every single day. And not just because I miss you, but because I see it now. I see how I let fear decide for me. And I hate that I became someone who could hurt you like that."

The words hung between them like fragile ornaments—beautiful but breakable.

"I'm trying to be better," Astrid added. "For myself… and for you. If you'll let me."

Ellie turned toward her, eyes finally meeting Astrid's. There was pain in them, yes. But also something else—truth.

She looked back at the coffee, the ice cubes melting slowly.

"I don't know if I can just let you back in," Ellie said, her voice low, almost brittle. "I've spent so long trying to forget you. Trying to breathe without you."

Astrid didn't flinch. She listened, fully, patiently.

"I've told myself it's over a hundred times. That I deserve better. That you don't get to come back whenever it's convenient. And I believe those things," Ellie continued. "But then I see you, and suddenly it's like none of that mattered. Like I'm back at square one again."

Astrid nodded slightly. "I know."

"I'm not the same girl I was back then," Ellie said, voice trembling despite her efforts. "I've changed too. I had to."

Astrid leaned forward, elbows resting on her knees. "And I don't want you to be the same girl. I just want you. As you are now. Stronger. Wiser. Angry, even—if that's what you need to be. I just want a chance to… prove that I won't run again."

The sincerity in her voice was disarming.

Ellie wanted to believe her.

God, she wanted to believe her so badly it scared her.

But the doubt was still there, coiled tightly around her heart like thorns.

"You say you've changed," Ellie said, "but what if you haven't? What if I let you in and it happens again?"

Astrid didn't try to defend herself.

She just looked at her, eyes shimmering in the late afternoon light. "Then I'll have to live with knowing I lost you twice. And that's a pain I'm not sure I'd survive."

That stopped Ellie.

The truth in that sentence pierced her more than any apology ever could.

"I don't know if I'm ready for this," Ellie said, her voice trembling again. "It's not just about you. It's me. I don't know if I can trust myself. I keep getting pulled into this loop of what-ifs and memories. I don't want to live there anymore."

Astrid reached out—slowly, carefully—and placed her fingers over Ellie's hand. Not tightly. Just enough.

"I'm not asking you to be ready," she said. "I'm just asking for a chance."

Ellie's breath caught in her throat.

The skin-on-skin contact was brief, but it said everything. It reminded her of sleepovers where their hands would brush under the same blanket and neither of them would pull away. Of days when closeness felt like oxygen, not a risk.

But this time, it was different.

This time, Ellie knew what the cost could be.

Her heart pounded as she stared at Astrid, as if her body were waiting for permission to fall again.

"I need more time," she said finally, drawing her hand back, not harshly—but firmly. "I need to think about who I am without you first. About what I actually want, not what I miss."

Astrid nodded, not even hiding her sadness. "I can wait."

Ellie a searched her eyes, looking for anything that hinted at pressure or expectation.

But Astrid only looked… sincere.

"I'll wait as long as it takes," she added, her voice barely above a whisper.

The bell rang in the distance, signaling the end of lunch break. Students began pouring out from the cafeteria and classrooms, laughter rising like waves. But in their little bubble beneath the tree, everything else was still.

Astrid stood up slowly, brushing crumbs from her skirt. She picked up her coffee and left the other one on the bench.

"For you," she said with a half-smile. "In case you're ready. Even just for a sip."

Ellie watched her walk away.

She didn't call her back. She didn't cry.

But she did reach for the coffee.

It was still cold.

Still sweet.

Still familiar.

And as the last golden leaves drifted down around her, Ellie took her first sip.

It didn't mean everything was okay.

But maybe…

It meant she was starting to believe that it could be.