The café smelled of roasted coffee and rain-soaked streets. Outside, the city glistened under streetlights, and the soft patter of rain made the world feel smaller, more intimate.
Elisse stirred her tea slowly, watching the steam curl upward. William sat across from her, hands wrapped around his own cup, careful not to reach for hers too soon.
The first words were awkward, tentative. But that was okay. Healing didn’t rush; it whispered.
“I… didn’t think we’d sit like this again,” Elisse said softly.
William smiled, small, careful. “Neither did I. But I wanted this. Slowly. No pressure.”
Her eyes flickered to his. She could see the change—the steadiness in his voice, the absence of defensiveness, the patience he now carried. A man who truly listened before speaking.
They talked about
