The restaurant wasn't much, but it was warm, alive with the quiet hum of voices and the clink of plates. Sophie and I had chosen it out of necessity—no food at home, and Sophie had made it clear that being in her own house was unbearable.
"It just feels suffocating," she'd said earlier, her voice barely above a whisper. I didn't ask her to explain. Instead, I suggested going out, knowing she'd rather be anywhere but there. After a bit of aimless wandering, we ended up in this little spot tucked into a quieter corner of town.
Sophie had hesitated before stepping inside. "You sure about this place?" she asked, looking at the dim sign above the door.
I shrugged. "It's better than nothing."
The inside was warmer than I expected, and the smell of coffee and something vaguely fried filled the air. We picked a booth near the back, where the light was dimmer, and the view of the town outside felt distant. Sophie stirred her drink absently, her eyes fixed somewhere over my shoulder. I didn't press her to talk. Instead, I let the silence fill the space between us.
That's when the door opened.
It wasn't the sound that caught my attention, but the shift in the air. The kind of feeling that makes you glance up without knowing why. I saw him before I could stop myself.
Michael.
He walked in like he belonged, his presence understated but undeniable. His boots made quiet, deliberate steps on the worn floorboards. The way his jacket hung open, his belt slightly frayed—it all seemed familiar, but not quite the same. I caught the faintest flash of his badge as he adjusted his coat.
He headed for the bar, but halfway there, he paused. His eyes scanned the room, not hurried, but purposeful. When his gaze landed on me, something shifted.
There was a flicker of recognition. A pause. And then he nodded, subtle but certain.
Sophie noticed and straightened slightly. "You know him?" she asked, her tone neutral but curious.
I nodded. "Yeah. Michael."
"Michael?" Her brow furrowed. "Wait, Michael? I thought he—"
"Left? He did." My voice was quieter than I intended.
Michael changed direction, his steps now carrying him toward our booth. Sophie gave me a glance, but I didn't meet her eyes. My focus was on him.
When he reached us, he stopped, his gaze flicking briefly to Sophie before settling on me. "Ivy," he said, his voice deeper and steadier than I remembered.
"Michael." I said his name like it was both a question and an answer.
"Hey," Sophie interjected, though her tone lacked its usual brightness. "Long time, no see."
Michael nodded at her, polite but distant. "Yeah, it's been a while."
"You should sit," Sophie said, gesturing toward the empty chair across from us. "Might as well catch up. Small towns and smaller restaurants—you can't avoid anyone for long."
Michael pulled out the chair, his movements careful, measured. As he sat, his eyes didn't leave mine.
"How long have you been back?" he asked, his voice low enough that it felt like the question was meant for me alone.
"Not long," I replied. "A few days."
"Feels like longer," he said, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
"Does it?" I asked, unsure if he was joking or serious.
Sophie's phone buzzed loudly on the table. She glanced at the screen and sighed. "I've got to take this. Don't talk too much without me, okay?" She slid out of the booth and walked toward the door, leaving me and Michael alone.
For a moment, neither of us spoke. The sounds of the restaurant seemed to blur, leaving just the two of us in the silence.
"You haven't changed much," he said finally, his voice softer now.
"Neither have you," I replied, though it felt like a lie. Michael was different. Older, sharper, quieter in a way that wasn't just about words.
There was something unspoken between us, like a thread pulled taut, fragile but unbreakable.
"It's strange being back," he said, breaking the silence.
I nodded. "Strange seeing you here."
He tilted his head slightly, studying me in a way that made me feel both seen and exposed. "I thought about it, you know."
"About what?"
"Coming back sooner." His eyes held mine, steady and unwavering. "But I wasn't sure if I'd still fit."
"You fit," I said, the words slipping out before I could stop them.
Michael's faint smile returned, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Do I?"
The question hung in the air, heavy with meaning I didn't fully understand. There was a familiarity in the way he spoke, the way he looked at me, but it wasn't the same. It was deeper, heavier, like time had changed the foundation but left the walls standing.
"Why are you really here?" I asked, my voice quieter than I intended.
Michael didn't answer right away. When he did, his words were careful, deliberate. "Let's just say I have a few questions of my own."
His gaze lingered, pulling me into something I wasn't sure I wanted to face. Memories stirred at the edges of my mind, fragments of a connection that felt both comforting and dangerous.
Sophie returned a moment later, her drink in hand, and the moment was gone. But the weight of Michael's words lingered, heavy and unyielding, like the promise of something neither of us could escape.
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