Lara Jean woke up with a tight feeling in her chest. Her phone was silent on the nightstand, no good morning text, no heart emoji from Peter. The memory of last night played in her head like a bad movie: raised voices, hurt words, and the quiet slam of a door.

She didn’t even remember what started it. Something about her not trusting him enough, or him not understanding her feelings. It was all a blur of frustration and pride.

The snow outside had started to melt when she walked to the café they always went to. She wasn’t sure why she came. Maybe she hoped he would be there too.

And he was. Sitting in their usual booth, hoodie pulled over his head, hands around a cup of coffee he hadn’t touched.

When he looked up, his eyes softened. “You came, covey,” he said quietly.

Lara Jean stood there for a second, not sure if she should smile or turn away. “You didn’t text,” she said instead.

“I didn’t know if you wanted me to,” Peter admitted. “You said you needed space.”