Fiona walked into the café and slid into their usual corner as if she had never left. The chair folded around her like a familiar promise. The air smelled of espresso and rain; outside, the city moved on. Inside, a loop of memory played behind her eyes—soft, practiced, the line she had once used when she needed to be believable:
Ethan looked up, his smile arriving before his feet did. He rose, palms open, the kind of welcome that had always been a doorway for him.
"Oh baby, I've missed you so much. Prison was so horrible" she said as she got up and flew into his arms like there was no tomorrow
"Oh God, my love, you must have suffered," he murmured, guiding her to the seat as if he had been waiting to rescue her.
