For once—
he didn't have an immediate answer.
The words hung there, unfinished, like a bridge he wasn't sure he could cross again.
She tilted her head, studying him—not with curiosity this time, but with caution.
"That's new," she said quietly. "You used to have a response for everything."
"I still do," he replied.
"Then where is it?"
He smirked.
And that smirk said more than anything he could've said.
Her expression shifted—just slightly. Not softer, not colder. Just… different. Like she was adjusting to a version of him she hadn't planned for.
"You know what I think?" she said, pacing slowly past him. "I think you came here convinced this would go a certain way. You'd say the right things, I'd react the way you expected…"
She stopped, turning back to face him.
"But now you're realizing you don't control this anymore."
A faint smile touched his lips. This time, it stayed—but it wasn't triumphant.
"Maybe I never did."
She raised a brow. "That sounds like reframing history."
"No," he said, meeting her eyes. "That sounds like honesty… just late."
That landed. She didn't respond immediately, and for a moment, neither of them moved.
Then—
"Answer the question," she said, more quietly now. "Why are you here?"
He looked at her—really looked this time—like he was deciding whether to hand her something fragile or keep pretending it didn't exist.
"I came here to see if anything was still left," he said.
Her gaze didn't waver. "And?"
But her heart was beating faster.
He took a step closer, closing the distance she'd created earlier.
"I don't know yet."
"That's not good enough."
"It's the only honest answer I have."
Silence again—but this one felt different. Less like a standoff. More like something building underneath.
She let out a slow breath, glancing away for just a second before looking back at him.
"You always wait until it matters to tell the truth," she said.
"And you always make sure it matters," he replied.
That almost made her smile.
Almost.
"But here's the problem," she continued, her voice steady but low.
"I did have feelings for you. You broke my heart… and it made me cold."
"I didn't know that," he said.
His voice was steady—but inside, something cracked.
"Yeah, you didn't," she shot back. "Because you were too busy hoping things would just… work out. But they didn't. My feelings for you changed."
His expression shifted—finally, something real breaking through.
"No," he said. "I'm hoping they did."
That caught her off guard.
"Why would you want that?" she asked.
"Because if they didn't," he said, his voice quieter now, "then we're exactly where we were when I left. And we both know how that ends."
A long pause followed.
This time, she didn't step away.
Didn't close the distance either.
She just stood there—caught between what she remembered… and what was standing in front of her now.
"Then you'd better be sure," she said finally, "that you're not the same person who walked away."
He held her gaze.
"I'm not," he said.
She searched his face, like she was trying to prove him wrong.
Or maybe hoping she couldn't.
"Good," she said after a moment.
Then, softer, calmer—
"Because I'm not the same person who would've waited."
This time, she closed the distance herself.
Her hand rose, resting gently against his face. She went up on her toes—
and kissed him.