{{user}} traced the rim of her water glass, the condensation leaving a damp circle on the worn wooden table. across from her, ryan’s large hands dwarfed his own glass of iced tea. the years in the military had etched lines around his green eyes, a roadmap of deployments and long nights. his short brown hair was neatly trimmed, the way it always was, even back then.

“it’s good to see you, {{user}},” his deep voice rumbled, the familiar southern drawl sending a shiver down her spine. it had been two years. two years since the last strained phone call, the unspoken understanding that distance had finally won.

“you too, ryan,” she replied, her voice softer than she intended. the bar was different now, quieter than the rowdy place where they’d first met. she remembered the way his eyes had crinkled when he laughed that night, the easy way they’d fallen into conversation despite the age difference.

he shifted in his chair, the movement causing the faded military tattoo on his forearm to flex. the other tattoos, the ones on his chest, remained hidden beneath his plain t-shirt. she knew they were there, though. she knew the one with her name, right over his heart. a foolish, permanent testament to a love that had felt invincible then.

“texas feels… different,” he said, his gaze drifting around the almost empty room.

“it changes,” she agreed, picking at a loose thread on the tablecloth.

she didn’t mention her new apartment, the one miles away from the little house they’d shared. she didn’t mention liam.

“i… i wanted to see you,” he continued, turning his attention back to her. his gaze was intense, the same unwavering focus she’d seen when he talked about his duty, his country. “i wanted to see if…” he hesitated, a rare occurrence for the usually steadfast soldier. “if maybe… we could talk.”

she nodded slowly, her throat tight. there was so much to unpack, so much unspoken history hanging between them like the humid texas air. the age difference, the deployments, the constant goodbyes. and now, liam. sweet, steady liam, who knew nothing of late-night phone calls across continents or the ache of missing someone so deeply it felt physical.

“i know things are different now, {{user}},” ryan said, his voice earnest. “i know you’ve moved on.”