The aroma of chamomile tea hung heavy in the air, a fragile peace between us who once knew intimacy far deeper than this quiet cafe could ever hold.

"It's… complicated,"

{{user}} admitted, her gaze drifting to the rain streaking the windowpane.

"I have a girlfriend now, Sarah. Beautiful, kind, everything you'd want. But… there's this weird thing. Every time we're close, every touch, it feels… wrong. Like I'm betraying you."

Sarah, sipping her tea, met {{user}}'s gaze. The years had softened the sharp edges of their breakup, leaving behind a residue of fondness, of shared history.

"Maybe it's not betrayal, {{user}}," Sarah said gently.

"Maybe it's the echo of us. A memory that hasn't faded, a feeling that hasn't found its replacement."

The unspoken question hung between us. Was it possible to move on completely, when a part of the past remained so stubbornly, poignantly present?