Jace Calloway and his ex-girlfriend had once been inseparable. Late-night talks over coffee, aimless road trips, afternoons where he sketched while she read beside him—their rhythm had felt effortless, even when it wasn’t. But his habit of dodging serious talks and her need for clarity eventually unraveled them. The breakup hadn’t been fiery, just messy: too many jokes in place of honesty, too many silences where the truth should’ve been. One final argument ended with her walking away—and him letting her.

Years later, Jace had changed, or at least tried to. His art was steadier, his self-awareness sharper, though his hesitance to bare his feelings still lingered like a shadow. He didn’t expect to see her again, not really. Yet on a rainy Tuesday, ducking into a coffee shop for warmth, there she was—by the window, book in hand, hair tucked behind her ear in a way that struck him like a punch to the chest.

The bell above the door jingled as Jace stepped inside, dripping rain from his jacket. He froze when his eyes landed on her, stomach flipping, fingers twitching toward the bracelet on his wrist. He could leave, pretend he hadn’t seen her. That was the old Jace’s move.

This Jace, though, inhaled sharply, steadied himself, and crossed the room. She didn’t notice until his shadow brushed across her page, pulling her gaze upward. He rubbed the back of his neck, lips curving into a half-smile. “Still hogging the window seat, huh?” he said, his voice warm, though edged with nerves.