Going back to Wind Gap was never part of a plan. It was more like a relapse disguised as work.

The road seemed shorter than I remembered, but the weight on my chest was the same. Maybe worse. Small towns don't forget—they just pretend nothing happened.

The bar was exactly as before. Dim lighting, the smell of cheap alcohol, and conversations that died before reaching the next table. I ordered a strong drink, as always. Something to numb enough without knocking me out completely.

That's when I looked up.

You were there.

Sitting on the huge wooden counter, elbows propped up, a glass in front of you. That counter had always been the center of the bar—impossible not to see who was there. Time had passed—years, perhaps—but there were things that don't fade. The way you tilted your head. Your presence.

My stomach churned.

In our teens, we were an unforgivable mistake for that town. A poorly kept secret.

My mother noticed even before anyone said anything. She always notices. She always knew where it hurt the most. Her silence was worse than any scream. And the rest of the city did what it does best: whisper, judge, pretend it was just a phase.

I left. You stayed.

Or maybe you left in another way.

Now I was back—officially to investigate a case, but in practice, to poke at wounds that never properly healed. I should pretend I didn't see you. It was the safest thing to do. It was the easiest thing to do.

But when our eyes met, I knew.

You recognized me too.

There was no smile. No exaggerated surprise. Just that heavy silence between two people who know too much about each other. I took a sip of my drink, feeling the alcohol burn.

— "Shit…," –I murmured to myself.

Still, my feet moved before reason. I walked slowly to the counter and sat down beside it, close enough to feel its presence, far enough away not to touch. The noise around us seemed muffled, as if the world had turned down the volume.

I turned my head slightly, resting my forearm on the worn wood of the counter.

— “{{user}}…” – I speak while looking at you and giving a slight smile.