46.OPEN WOUND

They didn't plan to see each other again. Not officially. Not in the kind of way that carried expectations or labels. But sometimes, silence stretches so far it begins to collapse under its own weight, and when it does something breaks. Or opens. It was Rowan who texted first, just a line, no questions: If you're still in the city... I'd like to see you.

Nora stared at the screen for a long time before replying.

She didn't know what to say not because the words weren't there, but because all of them felt fragile. And still, she said yes. Because despite the pain, despite the silence, despite everything that had come undone between them, she didn't want her story with Rowan to end in retreat.

When he arrived, he didn't bring flowers. He didn't bring apologies either. He brought himself as he was, not as she remembered. A little thinner. A little quieter. But more real. His eyes didn't search the room. They found her and held steady, like he wasn't expecting forgiveness but wasn't running from it anymore either.

She let him in. The apartment hadn't changed much same warm lighting, same mismatched mugs in the kitchen, same books stacked in corners. But the energy was different. It was lighter now. Or maybe just tired. The kind of quiet that comes after a storm, where everything is still standing, but nothing feels quite the same.

They sat on the couch. Not at opposite ends. Not touching either. There was a respectful space between them the kind built out of scars, not resentment. Nora handed him tea, and he accepted it like a peace offering, something small but warm, a gesture that said: I don't hate you. I just don't know what we are anymore.

For a while, neither of them spoke. The silence stretched, but didn't suffocate. Outside, the world moved on cars passing, lives continuing but inside, it felt like time had folded in on itself, allowing them to exist in a place where only honesty mattered.

"I've read your letter more than once," Nora said eventually. Her voice was soft, even. "Each time, it felt different. Like I was reading it from a different version of myself."

Rowan nodded. "I meant every word. Even the ones I was afraid to write."

She looked at him, studied his face. "You were right to leave," she said, surprising even herself with the gentleness in her tone. "But you were also right to come back."

He let out a breath, not relief exactly but something close. "I don't want to pretend we didn't fall apart," he said. "I just want to know if we're allowed to exist in the pieces."

They sat there a long time, not rebuilding, not erasing just recognizing. Everything they'd been. Everything they couldn't be. Everything that still lingered like breath between two strangers who used to know each other in ways that still burned under the skin.

When he stood to leave, she didn't stop him.

He moved slowly, carefully, like he wasn't sure what the ending would be.

At the door, he turned to her one last time. "Whatever we are now... I want it to be something true. Even if it's not love. Even if it's not forever."

Nora stepped forward. She didn't touch him at first. Just looked at him. Not with bitterness. Not with hope. But with something quieter. Acceptance.

"We're not starting over," she said. "But we're not finished either."

And then she reached for his hand. Not to hold it. Not to keep him close. Just to let him know she still remembered what it felt like to care.

And maybe someday that would be enough.