When Seasons Shift

Spring returned to Havenbrook, softening the chill in the air and painting the city in delicate hues of renewal. Elena stood by the open window of her new apartment, watching sunlight pour over rooftops. Everything felt different now. Calmer. Quieter. But not empty.

Her blog had become more than a creative outlet—it had blossomed into a business. She worked from home, collaborated with local artists, and taught virtual workshops. The same hands that once trembled under pressure now sketched with ease and purpose.

But no matter how busy she became, Aidan lingered in her thoughts.

Sometimes in the way a song made her pause.

Other times, in the brushstroke of a painting she passed on the street.

He was there—in absence and memory, not haunting, but gently present.

She had just returned from a workshop when her phone buzzed.

Aidan: "Florence is beautiful in the spring. But Havenbrook has better coffee."

Her breath caught.

Elena: "Still not convinced. You'd have to show me."

A few hours later, he replied with an image.

The Havenbrook train station.

He was back.

Elena froze, heart thundering.

Moments later, a knock echoed at her door. She hesitated before walking to it, hand hovering over the handle like it was a detonator.

She opened the door.

Aidan stood there, travel-worn but smiling—eyes clearer than she remembered.

"I didn't come back for the coffee," he said.

She didn't cry. She didn't launch herself into his arms. She just stepped aside and said, "Come in."

And he did.

No grand declarations.

No rushed confessions.

Just two people, changed by time, choosing—slowly, intentionally—to begin again.