The first few minutes in the car were filled with silence. Not the heavy kind that had loomed over us before, but something different—hesitant, uncertain.
Clara drove, her hands firm on the steering wheel, her eyes focused on the road ahead. I sat beside her, fidgeting with the hem of my sweater, my mind swirling with everything we had left unsaid.
It was strange. Being alone with her again, outside of the chaos, outside of the battles we had been fighting.
Just the two of us.
And yet, it wasn’t the same.
Clara cleared her throat. “Are you sure about this?”
I turned to look at her. “About what?”
“Us. Going back to places that used to mean something.”
Her voice was careful, like she was testing the waters, unsure of how much she was allowed to say.
I sighed, shifting in my seat. “I don’t know if I’m sure about anything, Clara. But I know that staying stuck in the past isn’t helping.”
She nodded, gripping the wheel tighter. “Fair enough.”
We pulled into the parking lot of an old café we used to go to—a small, cozy place tucked between two bookstores.
The last time we had been here, everything had felt simple.
Back when I didn’t have to question every look, every word.
Back when I trusted her without hesitation.
Clara turned off the engine but didn’t move to get out. She sat there, her fingers drumming against the wheel.
I watched her carefully. “Do you regret coming?”
She exhaled softly. “No. I just… I didn’t realize how much I missed this until now.”
Her words made my chest tighten.
Because I missed it too.
More than I wanted to admit.
Inside, the café was exactly the same. The scent of fresh coffee and cinnamon hung in the air, and the warm, familiar glow of dim lighting made it feel like stepping into another time.
I chose a table near the window, the one we always used to sit at.
Clara followed, setting her purse down before taking the seat across from me.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
It was odd—this space between us, filled with nostalgia and wounds still too fresh to ignore.
A waitress approached, taking our orders. Once she was gone, Clara finally looked up at me.
“How does it feel?” she asked softly.
I blinked. “What?”
“Being here. With me.”
I hesitated before answering. “Strange. Familiar. Complicated.”
She gave a sad smile. “Yeah. Me too.”
I ran my fingers along the edge of the menu, searching for the right words. “Do you ever think about what would’ve happened if things had been different?”
Clara leaned back in her chair, exhaling. “Every day.”
There was something raw in her voice, something that made my throat tighten.
She played with the napkin in front of her, a nervous habit I had always noticed when she was trying to keep herself together.
“Would you have told me?” I finally asked.
Her hands stilled. “Told you what?”
“The truth. About Richard. About your past.”
Clara’s expression darkened, but she didn’t look away. “I wanted to. But I was afraid.”
I swallowed hard. “Afraid of what?”
She met my gaze. “Losing you.”
The words hit me like a punch to the chest.
Because despite everything, despite all the pain and betrayal, I could tell she meant it.
And part of me still wished that had been enough.
I looked down at the table, my fingers tracing meaningless patterns on the surface.
“It still hurts,” I admitted quietly.
“I know,” Clara whispered. “And I’ll do whatever it takes to make it right.”
The sincerity in her voice made my stomach twist.
Because a part of me wanted to let go of all the anger, to lean into what we used to be.
But the scars were still fresh.
And I wasn’t sure if love was enough to erase them.
The waitress returned with our drinks, breaking the tension. I took a sip of my coffee, the warmth grounding me.
Clara watched me carefully. “Do you think we can ever go back to how things were?”
I considered the question for a moment.
“No,” I said honestly. “But maybe we can find something new.”
Clara’s lips parted slightly, as if surprised by my answer. Then, slowly, she nodded.
“I’d like that,” she said softly.
The rest of the conversation flowed more easily after that.
We talked about simple things—movies we had missed, books we wanted to read, places we wanted to visit.
For the first time in a long while, I laughed with her.
And for a little while, it almost felt normal.
But the past had a way of creeping back in when you least expected it.
As we left the café, my phone buzzed in my pocket.
I pulled it out, my heart skipping a beat when I saw the message.
“You can run, but you can’t hide.”
Clara noticed my reaction immediately. “What is it?”
I showed her the screen, my hands trembling slightly.
Her expression hardened. “Richard.”
It wasn’t a question.
I nodded, my stomach twisting.
Clara took a deep breath. “We need to tell Marcelo and Evelyn.”
“I know,” I whispered.
As we walked back to the car, Clara reached for my hand, hesitating before making contact.
This time, I didn’t pull away.
Because no matter how broken we were…
We still had a fight ahead of us.
And we would face it together.