I should have stopped seeing him.
By the third night in a row, that excuse no longer worked.
The café had become a pattern, and patterns were dangerous. They made things feel intentional. They made things feel real.
I was halfway through my drink when Alex slid into the seat beside me without asking.
"You look like you're about to bolt," he said softly.
"Maybe I should," I replied, not looking at him.
"But you won't."
I hated that he was right.
There was a storm inside me that night, one I couldn't explain. The kind that builds quietly, pressing against your ribs until breathing feels like a choice instead of a reflex. I could feel it in the way my hands shook when I reached for my cup.
"What are you afraid of?" he asked.
The question landed too close to the truth.
"I'm not afraid," I said.
Alex turned toward me fully then. "People who aren't afraid don't build walls that high."
Silence crashed between us.
I stood abruptly. "I need air."
He followed me outside.
The street was louder than usual, neon lights flashing, cars rushing past, the city alive and indifferent to the way my chest felt like it was caving in. I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to hold everything in place.
"This isn't fair," I said. "You don't get to walk into my life and ask questions like that."
"I'm not asking to stay," he said calmly. "I'm asking you to stop pretending this doesn't matter."
I laughed bitterly. "You don't know what you're asking."
"Then tell me."
I turned to him, heart pounding. "People leave. That's what they do. And when they go, they take pieces of you with them. I've already lost enough."
The words spilled out before I could stop them.
Alex didn't interrupt. Didn't rush to fix anything. He just listened really listened like my truth wasn't too heavy to hold.
"That explains the walls," he said quietly.
I shook my head. "It explains why I shouldn't be here. With you."
"Or," he said, stepping closer, "it explains why you are."
The space between us shrank.
I could feel his breath. The heat of him. The possibility.
"Say the word," he murmured. "And I'll walk away."
My lips parted.
No word came out.
That was answer enough.
He reached out, hesitating just long enough to give me the chance to stop him. When his fingers brushed my cheek, something inside me broke open, fear, longing, hope, all tangled together.
For one reckless second, I leaned into his touch.
And then
"Chloe?"
The voice froze me in place.
I turned slowly.
Standing a few feet away was the last person I ever expected to see.
My past.
His eyes flicked from me to Alex, recognition hardening his expression. "I thought that was you."
My heart dropped.
Alex's hand fell from my face.
"Who's that?" he asked.
I swallowed, throat tight. "Someone I never planned on seeing again."
The city roared around us, uncaring.
And just like that, the thing I'd been running from finally caught up with me.