The shift was subtle, but it was there.
It showed up in the way our conversations lingered just a little longer than they used to. In the way silence didn't feel like something to fill, but something to stay in.
In the way I started to expect him.
"Sophie."
I looked up from the chart in my hands, already knowing who it was.
Samuel stood a few steps away, his expression calm, like he hadn't been searching for me—but had found me anyway.
"You're going to miss lunch again," he said.
"I'm not," I replied, flipping the page. "I was just finishing this."
"You said that an hour ago."
I paused, glancing down at the file before closing it. "Okay. Maybe I lost track of time."
"That happens," he said lightly. "Come on."
I hesitated for a second before nodding, setting the file aside and falling into step beside him.
The cafeteria was quieter than usual when we got there, most of the tables half-empty as the late afternoon crowd thinned out. We found a table near the window without saying much, settling into the space like we had done it a hundred times before.
"What are you getting?" I asked.
"Whatever you're getting," he replied.
I raised a brow. "That's not helpful."
"It is if I trust your judgment."
"You shouldn't," I said. "I make questionable choices."
He smiled faintly. "Not always."
The words were simple, but they lingered longer than they should have.
I looked away first.
We ordered quickly and sat down again, the conversation slipping into something easy—work, small complaints, quiet observations that didn't require much thought.
But underneath it—
Something felt different.
Stronger.
"Do you ever think about it?" he asked suddenly.
I glanced up at him. "Think about what?"
"Back then," he said. "Before everything changed."
My fingers tightened slightly around my cup. "Sometimes."
He nodded, like he had expected that answer.
"I thought about it a lot," he admitted. "More than I probably should have."
The air shifted.
Not dramatically.
Just enough for me to notice.
"I didn't know that," I said quietly.
"You weren't supposed to," he replied.
I frowned slightly. "Why not?"
He didn't answer right away.
Instead, he leaned back in his chair, his gaze settling on me in a way that felt… different.
More focused.
More deliberate.
"Because it wouldn't have changed anything," he said.
My breath caught slightly, though I wasn't sure why.
"Maybe it would have," I said.
He shook his head once. "You were already gone."
The words landed softer than they should have.
But they still landed.
I didn't know how to respond to that.
So I didn't.
Silence settled between us, but this time it wasn't as easy as before. It carried something beneath it—something unspoken, something waiting.
Samuel broke it first.
"Things are different now," he said.
I looked at him, my chest tightening just slightly.
"Are they?" I asked.
He held my gaze, not looking away this time.
"Yeah," he said quietly. "They are."
There was something in his voice.
Something I couldn't quite ignore.
The moment stretched.
Long enough that I knew—
If I said something, anything, it would change everything.
And for a second…
I almost did.
But instead, I looked away, my fingers curling slightly around the edge of the table.
"I should get back," I said.
The words felt like an exit.
A safe one.
Samuel didn't stop me.
Didn't push.
But I saw it—the brief flicker in his expression before it settled again.
"Yeah," he said. "Of course."
I stood up, grabbing my things, my movements just a little too quick to feel natural.
"I'll see you later," I added.
"Yeah," he replied. "You will."
I nodded once before turning and walking away.
The hallway felt longer than usual.
Or maybe it was just me.
My thoughts didn't settle right away. They lingered somewhere between what had almost been said and what I had chosen not to hear.
Because I knew.
I knew what that moment was.
What it could have been.
And I had stepped away from it.
Not because I didn't feel it.
But because I did.