The bell above the café door chimed softly as you stepped inside, brushing the wind from your coat. The smell hit you first—cinnamon, espresso, vanilla. Cozy and warm, like a memory.

You hadn’t meant to come here. You just needed a break, a new place to clear your head. But the moment your eyes landed on the familiar handwriting on the chalkboard menu, your breath caught in your throat.

That font. That name. It was your idea. Your shared dream.

Before you could even turn to leave, a voice stopped you in your tracks.

—“Never thought I’d see you here, {{user}}.”

You turned slowly. He was behind the counter, wearing an apron, wiping his hands on a cloth like it was the most ordinary thing in the world. But it wasn’t. It was Edward.

His hair was a little longer, his eyes softer—but still him. Still the boy who used to kiss your forehead in between sips of coffee, who once drew café floor plans on napkins at midnight.

He walked closer, rolling up his sleeve as he always used to when nervous. And there it was. Your name. Inked in clean black on his arm.

He caught your glance and smiled, just a little.

—“Yeah... I never got it removed. I guess it wasn’t about ownership or regret. Just... good memories.”

The café was quiet. Just the soft hum of the espresso machine and the sound of your heartbeat in your ears.

He looked at you, voice lower now.

—“Funny, huh? We used to talk about this place like it was a fairytale. And now here you are, walking into it like a page from one.”

You didn’t know what to say. Maybe you didn’t need to. Some ghosts didn’t haunt—they waited.