The cafe was nearly empty, save for the quiet hum of conversation and the occasional hiss of the espresso machine. Elena sat by the window, a lukewarm coffee in front of her, untouched. She stirred it absentmindedly, her mind far away from the soft indie music playing in the background or the cheerful barista asking someone if they wanted oat milk or almond.
She wasn't sure why she came here. Maybe it was because she used to come with Jace on Sunday mornings. Maybe it was because the place hadn't changed, even though everything else had. Or maybe she was waiting for something—an answer, a sign, or just silence that didn't hurt.
Her phone buzzed once. A text from Kara.
> "Thinking of you. Remember who the hell you are. ❤️"
Elena smiled faintly. Kara was her rock, the kind of friend who didn't need to understand everything to stand beside her. And God, she needed that. Needed someone who didn't ask her to justify the way she loved, or the way she broke.
The door to the café opened.
Her breath caught.
Jace.
Of course.
He spotted her immediately. His movements were slow, unsure. Like he wasn't sure if he was allowed to walk into her space anymore. She didn't move. Didn't signal. Didn't stop him either.
He stood in front of her now, silent.
"May I sit?" he asked.
Elena looked at him. He looked like hell—like he hadn't slept in days. His usually clean-shaven face was rough with stubble, and his eyes were shadowed, desperate.
She gestured to the seat across from her. "It's a public café."
He sat down carefully, as if the chair might reject him too.
They sat in silence for a while. The air between them was tense, fragile. The kind of silence that once would've felt comfortable, now felt like glass on skin.
"I didn't expect to see you here," he said quietly.
"Clearly," she replied, her eyes still on the window.
"I've been trying to give you space. But I couldn't stay away anymore."
Elena finally looked at him, her gaze sharp but not cruel. "I didn't ask you to come."
"I know. But I needed to."
She nodded slowly. "So? Say what you came to say."
He looked down at his hands, then back at her. "I messed up. I betrayed your trust. Again. And I hate myself for it."
"You should," she said simply.
That hit him hard. He swallowed, nodding. "I don't expect forgiveness. I just… I need you to know what really happened."
"I saw what happened."
"No," he leaned forward slightly, his voice shaking, "you saw what it looked like. But you didn't get the whole story."
Elena tilted her head. "You had your chance to explain. You chose silence when it mattered most."
Jace sighed. "Lila—she's my ex. She showed up at the office a few weeks ago. Said she needed closure. I didn't tell you because I didn't want to bring that drama into our relationship. That was mistake number one."
"Mistake number one was thinking you could lie to protect us."
"I know," he said quickly. "I was wrong. She... she kissed me, Elena. I didn't invite it. I didn't want it. But I froze. I panicked. And you saw it all at the worst moment."
Elena stared at him. Her jaw clenched. "And how many seconds did you hesitate before pulling away? Five? Ten?"
"I don't know. Too many. But I didn't kiss her back. I didn't touch her. I didn't say anything because I was trying not to make a scene. I didn't know you were behind me. If I had known—"
"If you had known, you would've pretended," she interrupted. "That's what you're saying."
"No." His voice cracked. "If I had known, I would've done what I should've done all along—pushed her away and walked out."
Elena folded her arms. "You waited until you were caught to choose me. That's not love, Jace. That's cowardice."
He winced, but didn't argue. "I know. And I'm not here to beg. I'm here to ask… can we try again? Not tomorrow. Not next week. But ever?"
She laughed, but it wasn't out of humor. It was sad. Tired. "You think love is just a switch you flip back on when you're ready."
"No," he said. "I think love is something you fight for when you've destroyed it. Even when you don't deserve another chance."
"Then maybe fight in silence," she said, picking up her coffee at last. "Because right now, all I want is peace."
He nodded, slowly rising from his seat.
But then he paused.
"Elena," he said, and something about the way he said her name made her look up again.
"I love you. No matter what you decide. I'll be here. Whether it's waiting… or letting go."
She didn't respond. Couldn't.
And then he was gone.
The next day, Elena packed a small bag and drove two hours north to her mother's cottage by the lake. No one knew she was going. Not even Kara. She just needed quiet. Real quiet.
The cottage was still the same—musty with forgotten memories and the faint scent of wildflowers from the overgrown garden. She lit a fire, made a cup of tea, and curled up on the old couch beneath a knitted blanket she remembered from childhood.
Outside, the lake rippled gently in the wind.
Inside, Elena faced the echo of herself.
Who was she without Jace? Who was she before the lies, the tears, the promises?
A survivor.
A lover.
A woman who gave everything and got shards in return.
But she was still here.
She wrote in her journal for the first time in months. She scribbled thoughts that didn't have to make sense. She cried again. But not from heartbreak. From release.
And when the stars came out that night, she stepped outside and let the wind hit her skin. Let herself feel cold and alive.
She was not healed. But she was healing.