You came to the reunion because a friend invited you—unaware Nathan Gaillard would be there. He was once your best friend, your home, before he left without warning to study in another city.

You barely recognized him, but his gaze was the same. It found you instantly.

You avoided eye contact, stood, and pretended to head for the bathroom—only to escape to the balcony.

Minutes later, the door creaked open. Footsteps. You didn’t turn.

"You still look for quiet places," he said softly behind you.

You stayed silent, eyes on the sky. He stood beside you—close, but not too close.

"I didn’t think you’d come," you said.

"Why?" His tone was unreadable.

"Because you always leave without saying goodbye."

A breath escaped him. "I haven’t changed, have I?"

You turned slowly. Your eyes met, and everything unsaid pressed against your chest.

"Why do you always come back when I’ve started to stop waiting?" you whispered, voice cracking.

He didn’t reply—just stepped forward and pulled you into his arms.

Familiar. Silent. Warm.

You wanted to push him away, but your body trembled. Tears finally fell.

You clutched his shirt. No words. Just his hand gently rubbing your back.

"I know I’m late," he murmured near your ear, voice breaking. "I’m sorry."