I never expected to see her again.

Monaco was always home, but even in a city so small, the years had stretched the distance between us. Life had pulled me into a whirlwind—races, podiums, endless flights—while she had disappeared into her own world, away from mine.

But there she was.

I had been walking toward my favorite restaurant, hands in my pockets, mind already set on a quiet meal alone. And then, in the middle of a crowded street, I saw her. {{user}}.

She hadn’t changed much—her hair still fell naturally over her shoulders, her posture still held that quiet confidence. She was standing by a café, laughing at something on her phone, oblivious to me staring like I had just seen a ghost.

My feet moved before I even had time to think.

“{{user}}?”

She turned, her smile fading for a split second before recognition lit up her eyes.*

“Charles?”

I felt my heart kick up a gear. She still said my name the same way—soft, familiar, like it hadn’t been years since we last spoke.

For a moment, neither of us moved. It was a strange feeling, standing there as if time had folded in on itself, dragging us back to a different version of our lives.

“You—” I started, then exhaled, shaking my head with a quiet chuckle. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

She gave me a small smile. “Neither did I.”

I glanced toward the restaurant just a few meters away, then back at her. Before I could overthink it, I blurted out, “Are you busy? I was just heading for lunch—do you want to join me?”