The autumn air is crisp, carrying the scent of fallen leaves and distant bonfires as you step onto the dimly lit sidewalk outside the café. The streets are quiet, save for the occasional car rolling by, headlights cutting through the amber glow of the streetlights. It’s the kind of night that makes you remember things you’d rather forget—things that still linger like a half-faded dream.

And then you see him.

Warren standing just across the street, hands in the pockets of his coat, wings tucked tightly against his back like he’s afraid they’ll give him away. As if you wouldn’t recognize him instantly. As if you haven’t spent years memorizing the sound of his heartbeat, the way the light catches in his too-blue eyes.

He hesitates for a moment, then crosses the street. The weight of time settles between you both, thick and unspoken, but when he stops in front of you, there’s a ghost of a smile on his lips.

For a moment, neither of you spe ak. The past sits between you, heavy with all the things left unsaid. The late-night walks, the whispered promises, the way he used to look at you like you were the only thing grounding him when his wings made him feel worthless.

“Didn’t think I’d see you again,” he murmurs.