The café hadn't changed.
Same chipped tables. Same mismatched chairs. Same barista with the nose ring and the tired smile. Joey stood at the entrance, her fingers curled around the strap of her bag, heart thudding like a drum.
She hadn't planned to come here. But after the dream, after the letter she never sent, after the silence that had stretched too long—she needed something familiar.
She stepped inside.
The bell above the door chimed softly. A few heads turned, then returned to their laptops and lattes. The city moved on, even when hearts stalled.
Zed was there.
He sat at the far corner, sketchbook open, pencil moving in slow, deliberate strokes. He didn't notice her at first. His brow was furrowed, his lips slightly parted. He looked like he was trying to capture something elusive.
Joey walked over, her steps quiet but sure.
She sat across from him.
Zed looked up, startled. Then softened.
"Hey," he said.
"Hey."
They didn't speak for a while. The silence wasn't awkward—it was sacred. Like both of them knew words would only cheapen the moment.
Joey watched him sketch. It wasn't her face. It was a tree, twisted and blooming, roots tangled with broken clocks and feathers. It was surreal. Beautiful. Honest.
"What is it?" she asked.
Zed shrugged. "A feeling. A memory. A maybe."
Joey smiled. "I like it."
He closed the sketchbook gently. "I wasn't sure you'd come."
"I wasn't sure either."
Zed reached for his coffee, took a sip, then set it down. "I've been thinking. About us. About everything."
Joey nodded. "Me too."
"I don't want to rush you," he said. "Or corner you. Or make you choose."
"I know."
"I just want to be here. However you need me."
Joey looked at him—really looked. The boy who had written poems instead of promises. The man who had offered truth instead of certainty.
"I don't know what I need," she admitted.
Zed smiled. "Then let's figure it out. Slowly."
They sat there, the city breathing around them, the café humming with quiet life.
Joey reached for his sketchbook and flipped to a blank page.
She picked up his pencil.
And began to draw.
Not perfectly. Not confidently.
But honestly.
Zed watched her, eyes wide, heart full.
Outside, the rain had stopped.
Inside, something had begun.