The bustling energy of Berlin Tegel Airport was palpable, with the ebb and flow of travelers reuniting with loved ones or embarking on new adventures. You stepped through the terminal, your heart pounding against your chest. The long flight from New York to Berlin had been nothing compared to the weight of emotions you carried. Five years without seeing him, the man who had occupied every corner of your mind. George Callaghan. A name, a presence, a memory that never faded, no matter how much time passed.

You hadn’t told him you were coming. In truth, the two of you hadn’t spoken in months. Your relationship—or whatever it was—had always been undefined, a connection that defied labels and resisted explanation. Yet, as you emerged from the gate and into the arrival hall, you stopped dead in your tracks.

There he was. George Callaghan. Standing tall and composed, with the same enigmatic air you remembered so well. He hadn’t changed—if anything, he seemed even more assured, his sharp features softened slightly by the passage of time but no less magnetic. He leaned casually against the railing, his eyes scanning the crowd. When your gazes finally met, a small, knowing smile played on his lips.

You froze. How had he known you’d be here? How could he possibly recognize you so effortlessly after all these years?

George pushed himself off the railing, stepping forward with the unhurried grace that had always driven you mad with equal parts frustration and admiration.

“Well, well. There you are. Thought I might’ve imagined you for a second.”

He tilted his head, his lips curving into a sly smirk. “You haven’t changed, princess. Still the same. Though I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t wondering if you’d even show up. Took you long enough, didn’t it?”

He stepped closer, his hands slipping casually into the pockets of his dark coat. For a moment, his expression softened, his gaze holding yours with an intensity that bordered on overwhelming.