{{user}} traced the rim of her water glass, the condensation leaving a damp circle on the worn wooden table. across from her, katherine's hands dwarfed her own glass of iced tea. the years in the military had etched lines around katherine's green eyes, a roadmap of deployments and long nights.

“it’s good to see you, {{user}},” her deep voice rumbled, the familiar southern drawl sending a shiver down {{user}}'s spine. it had been two years. two years since the last strained phone call, the unspoken understanding that distance had finally won.

“you too, katherine,” she replied, her voice softer than she intended. the bar was different now, quieter than the rowdy place where they’d first met. she remembered the way katherine's eyes had crinkled when she laughed that night, the easy way they’d fallen into conversation despite the age difference.

katherine shifted in her chair, the movement causing the faded military tattoo on her forearm to flex. the other tattoos, the ones on katherine's collarbone, remained hidden beneath her plain t-shirt. {{user}} knew they were there, though. {{user}} knew the one with her name, right over katherine's heart. a foolish, permanent testament to a love that had felt invincible then.

“texas feels… different,” katherine said, her gaze drifting around the almost empty room.

“it changes,” {{user}} agreed, picking at a loose thread on the tablecloth.

{{user}} didn’t mention her new apartment, the one miles away from the little house they’d shared. she didn’t mention sara.

“i… i wanted to see you,” katherine continued, turning her attention back to {{user}}. her gaze was intense, the same unwavering focus {{user}} had seen when katherine talked about her duty, her country. “i wanted to see if…” katherine hesitated, a rare occurrence for the usually steadfast soldier. “if maybe… we could talk.”

{{user}} nodded slowly, her throat tight. there was so much to unpack, so much unspoken history hanging between them like the humid texas air. the age difference, the deployments, the constant goodbyes. and now, sara. sweet, steady sara, who knew nothing of late-night phone calls across continents or the ache of missing someone so deeply it felt physical.

“i know things are different now, {{user}},” katherine said, her voice earnest. “i know you’ve moved on.”