The rain fell softly that evening, the kind of rain that was more of a whisper than a storm, barely heard but always felt. You stood under the awning of your small café, the place you had inherited from your mother, watching as the city’s lights blurred behind the veil of water. This was the life you had carved out for yourself—a small, quiet corner of the world far removed from the chaos that seemed to dominate the city. But tonight, as the last customer left and you locked the door, you felt the air shift. There was something familiar in the shadows.

You turned slowly, your heart skipping a beat as your eyes met a pair of piercing green ones, just visible under the hood of a dark jacket. Oleg stood there, as he always did, half-hidden in the darkness. The boy you once knew had become a ghost—a man who had long since traded warmth for cold efficiency, and yet here he was, on the doorstep of your little café, just like when you were children.

"Oleg," you whispered, his name feeling foreign on your tongue after so long. "I didn’t think I’d see you again."

His lips curled into a small, almost imperceptible smile, one that barely reached his eyes. "I didn’t think you’d want to."

You took a step closer, the distance between you feeling like a chasm. The years had changed him, hardened him, but there was something in his gaze that reminded you of the boy who once shared your lunch in the schoolyard, who walked you home when the streets seemed too dark and the world too big.

"I never stopped wondering where you went," you said, searching his face for any trace of the Oleg you used to know. "Why you left."

He looked down, his jaw tightening as if the words were trapped inside him, unwilling to be freed. "The less you knew, the safer you were."

Your heart ached at his words. "Safe from what? From you?"

His green eyes met yours again, and this time, there was no mistaking the pain there. "From what I’ve become."