The Years Between Us

2. Routine Before Ruin

Life in Windele moved slower than it did in Velmor, where everything always felt like it was rushing toward something it could never quite reach. Here, days unfolded gently, almost cautiously, as if the city itself was trying not to disturb anything it had already learned to forget.

I usually woke around seven, made breakfast, then carried my coffee out to the balcony. From there, I’d watch the city slowly come alive beneath me—streets gradually filling, shops opening one by one, the quiet rhythm of a city just beginning its day. By half past eight, I was usually already sitting in a small café not far from Lumiere.

It was the same order every time: an americano—my second of the day—and a slice of cheesecake I first tried during my second week after opening the studio. I had kept ordering it ever since, as if repetition could turn it into something genuinely familiar.

Reina came by almost daily whenever her schedule allowed. We would have lunch together, or sometimes just grab coffee before heading back to work. Her office was barely a kilometer from Lumiere, close enough that she treated my life here like an extension of hers. Just last week, she dragged me out to dinner at L’amour, a small French restaurant near my apartment.

“Single women need to look out for each other,” she’d said with a grin that was far too pleased with itself. Something tightened quietly in my chest, though I smiled anyway and let it pass.

She told me I should enjoy the calm while I still could—before the kids arrived, before life shifted back into its heavier shape. Cassie and Alex were still in Velmor with their grandparents. They’d join me at the end of summer, just in time to start school here.

It was just past noon when I checked the time. I was still in my studio, working on my third design of the month. I hadn’t gone out for lunch because Reina had already stopped by earlier with Burger Joe and a bottle of cola, claiming I looked like someone who had forgotten food existed. She was also supposed to have dinner with me tonight, but that plan didn’t survive the day.

“I’ll make it up next week, I promise,” she said, holding up two fingers in a peace sign.

“You didn’t have to come all the way here,” I told her. “A text would’ve been enough.”

“I ordered way too many burgers for five people,” she replied. “Someone had to help me fix that mistake.”

I shook my head. “Of course you did.”

“Take care of yourself,” she added, already stepping toward her car.

“I will. Let me know when you arrive.”

Reina waved as her car pulled away from the front of Lumiere, leaving the studio a little quieter than before.

There were fifteen minutes left before the lunch break ended. Liz, Marry, and Jully were still out, probably finishing pizza at a café nearby; they had promised to bring me something back. I didn’t feel like going upstairs yet, so I wandered instead, taking slow steps along the showroom floor.

Rows of dresses stood behind the glass walls—silent, waiting. Most of them were pieces I had designed back in Velmor. There were no new collections yet, only a few custom orders from brides who had found me before I even officially settled here. My reputation had arrived in Windele before I did. That thought still felt strange, and somehow, fortunate. What I built in Velmor hadn’t stayed small; it had followed me here, opening doors I hadn’t even knocked on yet.

A soft chime broke the quiet as the glass door opened. A young woman stepped in with bright eyes and too much energy for the afternoon heat.

“Ms. Adam!” Her voice rang out instantly, cheerful and unfiltered.

I recognized her immediately. A smile found its way onto my face as I moved toward her and gestured for her to sit on the sofa. Nadine Rowe was one of my first clients after Lumiere opened. She couldn’t have been more than twenty-two or twenty-three. Everything about her felt alive—her eyes, her movements, the way she spoke as if the world was something she was still excited to discover.

“My fiancé is coming soon,” she said, practically glowing. “I want him to see the dress.” Her dark hair swayed every time she moved too quickly. “I can’t wait, Ms. Adam,” she added again, like she hadn’t already said it a dozen times.

“You’ll see it properly in a moment,” I replied. “Let’s go upstairs.”

She stood, light on her feet. Her high-necked white blouse, adorned with soft ruffle details, gave her a classic elegance without trying too hard. A cream, high-waisted skirt fell neatly to her knees, and a white fedora framed her face in a way that felt almost cinematic. Nadine Rowe had a very clear taste: elegant, soft, precise. She was the kind of client who never stopped adding details because inspiration never seemed to leave her alone.

When she saw herself in the mirror wearing the gown, she spun once—then again—laughing softly as the fabric followed her movement. Even without the pearls and crystals still waiting to be attached, the dress already looked complete. It featured a sweetheart neckline layered with sheer tulle rising into a high collar, transparent puff sleeves that shifted with every gesture, and a silhouette that held her like it had been made specifically to remember her shape.

“It’s beautiful,” she said, her voice suddenly unsteady. “I’m so glad you came to Windele.”

“I’m glad you like it,” I said, and I meant it. Moments like this were the only kind of silence I didn’t mind.

Liz appeared at the door a while later, leaning in to whisper that Nadine’s fiancé had arrived. I nodded and allowed him in.

The room changed the moment he entered. Not loudly, not visibly, just… sharply. He looked around briefly before his gaze landed on Nadine, and a small smile formed on his face, soft and familiar.

And then, the world stopped. Not metaphorically, not poetically—it simply stopped making sense.

Ezra Hale stood in front of me.

I had known this might happen. From the moment I returned to Windele, it had been a possibility I carefully refused to look at too closely. But knowing something and being prepared for it were never the same thing.

“How does it look?” Nadine asked brightly.

Ezra didn’t answer immediately. His attention was entirely on her as he reached for her hand, gently, like it was the most natural thing in the world. “There aren’t enough words,” he said quietly. “You look incredible.”

For a second, Nadine looked like she might step closer and kiss him, but she stopped herself, suddenly aware of the room. “Oh, right,” she said quickly, turning around. “Darling, let me introduce you. This is Ms. Adam—the designer I told you about.”

Ezra turned, slowly, and everything inside me went still.

“Ms. Adam,” she said happily, “this is my fiancé, Ezra Hale. I’m so happy you finally get to meet.”

Silence stretched between us—not empty, but suffocatingly heavy.

“Meara…” His voice broke first. It didn’t sound like my name; it sounded like something that had been held underwater for too long, finally surfacing. His light brown eyes locked onto mine, and I saw it immediately: shock, recognition, and something far worse—a look of profound pain that had been waiting years to be named.

“You know each other?” Nadine asked, blinking in confusion. “Ezra, why didn’t you tell me?”

Instinct took over before thought did. I extended my hand—professional, polite, safe. “Hello, Mr. Hale,” I said, my voice sounding impossibly even. “It’s been a long time.”

My hand stayed there, unreturned. Ezra didn’t move; he just stared at me like I was something impossible standing in front of him—a nightmare that had somehow learned how to breathe.

The room went silent in a completely different way now. Nadine looked between us, confused but still smiling, like she was slowly realizing she had walked into a story she didn't understand yet.

When Ezra finally spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper. “You’re alive…”

The words didn’t belong in the room. They fell between us like something heavy shattering into pieces.

Nadine let out a small, nervous laugh, entirely uncertain. “Ezra, you’re making it sound like she came back from the dead,” she said lightly, stepping closer to him. “Windele really is small, but I didn’t expect you two to be that close.” She looked at me, still trying to smile. “I’m sorry, Ms. Adam. He’s just dramatic sometimes.” Then, her tone softened into something curious. “Were you two close back then?”

I withdrew my hand slowly, hiding it behind my back before anyone could see how violently my fingers were shaking. “Just school friends,” I said, though the voice didn’t even sound like mine. “A long time ago.”

Nadine seemed satisfied with that answer. She turned back to the mirror, adjusting the dress again, completely unaware of what had just shattered quietly behind her.

But behind her smile, Ezra Hale was still looking at me like I had already disappeared once before.