(Matthew’s Point of View)
The place looked smaller than I remembered.
Same glass doors. Same long table. Same quiet room where everything had started with papers instead of feelings. I stood by the window, my hands in my pockets, watching the city lights flicker outside like nothing in the world had almost fallen apart.
Then the door opened.
I didn’t turn right away.
I knew it was her.
I felt it in my chest before I heard her steps.
“Matthew,” Esther said softly.
I turned.
She stood just inside the room, her bag hanging from her shoulder, her hair slightly messy like she hadn’t bothered to tame it. Her eyes met mine, and for a second, neither of us spoke.
Too much had happened.
Too much was still sitting between us.
She took a step forward, then stopped. Her fingers tightened a
