Class that morning seemed to drone on longer than usual. Even Professor Langston, who often made poetic theory sound like divine scripture, couldn't quite ignite the usual spark. Maybe it was the weather. Maybe it was the restlessness that always came before the semester's final push. Or maybe it was something else.
Kate and Emma strolled side by side beneath the wide canopy of trees, their footsteps muffled on the damp stones. Kate was brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear while talking animatedly about an upcoming class debate.
"Langston says we'll have to argue in verse. Can you believe that? Rhetoric in rhyme."
Emma smirked. "That sounds like something you'd ace."
"Not the point. I don't want to get paired with Jules again he thinks sarcasm counts as philosophy."
As Emma laughed, a sudden figure leapt out from behind the trees.
"Boo!"
Michael appeared dramatically, arms outstretched, eyes wide like a stage performer. Kate didn't even blink. Emma simply raised an unimpressed brow.
Michael straightened, crestfallen. "Seriously? No jump? Not even a flinch?"
"You're about as terrifying as a puppy wrapped in silk," Kate deadpanned.
"I've got the soul of a predator!" Michael insisted.
"Of a house cat maybe," Emma said with a teasing smile.
"Tame ones," Kate added.
Michael mock-clutched his chest. "Wounded. Betrayed by my own teammates."
"You do this every week," Kate said dryly.
"One day it'll work," he replied with a grin, falling into step between them. "Anyway, guess who just submitted his second novel to Orion Publishing?"
Emma raised an eyebrow. "Congratulations. Didn't know you could write more than two sentences without complaining."
"I had a muse," he said dramatically. "Her name is procrastination."
Kate laughed.
As the trio neared the wide steps of the literature building, Emma paused. Across the quad, Jason emerged from the philosophy wing, books in hand, gaze low.
"Jason!" she called, hopeful.
But he walked past without even turning.
The air grew tenser.
Kate's eyes narrowed. "He could at least pretend to have manners."
Emma shook her head, exhaling slowly. "Forget it. It's not worth it."
Michael, ever the diplomat, said nothing.
Then
"You seem to be in a bad mood."
The voice was unmistakable. Smooth, warm, layered with a faint note of mischief.
They turned.
There he stood.
Andrew.
Wearing a crisp white shirt under a black jacket, dark trousers, and polished shoes. His black eyes were clear and unreadable, reflecting the overcast sky. He stood taller than they remembered. Straighter. As though something had solidified within him. But his smile...that smile was all Andrew.
Michael stared, stunned. "You... you look like you came out of a secret agent movie."
Kate crossed her arms. "Took you long enough, Mr. Ivy League."
Michael lunged forward and pulled Andrew into a quick, firm hug. "Bro. Taking care of these minions of mine has been a hassle."
Emma raised a brow. "Minions???"
Kate mirrored the look. "Minions, you say?"
Michael immediately backtracked. "I mean.....imean these lovely young ladies, these literary queens, these paragons of talent!"
Emma rolled her eyes.
Andrew laughed, his expression warm.
"I missed this," he said. "Missed you. All of you. I'm glad you guys are okay."
There was a pause. The kind that only exists between people who had once been inseparable and were now reconnecting across time.
Emma smiled softly. "Welcome back, Andrew."
Andrew chuckled, running a hand through his hair. "I'm glad you guys are okay."
Emma stepped forward, studying him. "You really were gone."
Andrew nodded. "But I'm back."
"For good?" Kate asked.
Andrew looked up toward the sky. "For now."
Michael glanced at his watch. "Well, if you don't mind making a dramatic entrance, how about we go get coffee before the next lecture?"
Kate looped her arm around Andrew's. "You're paying."
"I just got off a train," he said, pretending to protest.
"Exactly. Guilt tax."
They walked off toward the campus café, the rain finally beginning to fall. And for a while, nothing else mattered.
The café was nestled just off campus, a warm pocket of amber light tucked beneath a tangle of ivy and brick. Rain tapped rhythmically at the windowpanes, but inside, the scent of roasted beans, vanilla, and old pages wrapped the group in a cocoon of quiet comfort.
Andrew sat by the window, his fingers loosely wrapped around a ceramic mug, steam curling up and fogging the edge of his glasses. Across from him sat Kate, posture precise but relaxed, her brown hair tucked behind one ear as she flipped through the latest issue of a literary journal. Emma and Michael had claimed the couch beside them, a pile of books and empty coffee cups forming a growing monument to their reunion.
"So," Michael began, voice as animated as ever, "tell us everything. And I mean everything."
Andrew offered a small smile, but it didn't quite touch the corners of his eyes.
"There's not much to tell," he said, lifting his cup. "Halberd's intense. You learn fast or you fall behind. That school has a way of... changing you."
Kate quirked a brow. "That obvious, huh?"
Andrew chuckled. "Let's just say I had to grow up a little quicker than expected."
Michael leaned forward. "You look different, man. Taller. Sharper. Like... you aged ten years in one."
"Feels like it," Andrew replied. He didn't elaborate, choosing instead to swirl his coffee slowly, letting the silence stretch.
Emma watched him with quiet curiosity, her fingers laced around her own mug. She hadn't spoken much since they sat down, letting the others do the catching up. But now her voice slipped in, soft and steady.
"Do you regret going?"
Andrew met her gaze. Her eyes were a little darker than he remembered, but still held that distant gleam of wonder. He shook his head.
"No," he said. "I think it was what I needed. I learned a lot. About myself. About the world."
Kate stirred her tea. "And what about us?"
Andrew smiled then. Truly smiled. "I missed you. All of you. More than I thought I would."
Michael raised his cup. "Cheers to that."
They clinked mugs like old soldiers returning from war, laughter chasing away the remnants of awkward distance.
Emma glanced at the window. "It's weird. You've been gone so long, but sitting here like this... it's like you never left."
Andrew turned to her, something unreadable flickering behind his expression. "Time's funny like that."
There was a lull. The kind that carried weight.
Kate cleared her throat. "So. Catch him up on everything he missed."
Michael rubbed his hands together. "Oh boy. Where do I start? Okay, Emma published her novel.huge reviews, I might add. Kate signed a two-book deal. I survived. Barely."
Emma smirked. "You survived because Kate and I edited your chapters."
Michael shrugged. "Teamwork."
Andrew laughed, his shoulders loosening. "That's amazing. I'm proud of you guys. Seriously."
Kate narrowed her eyes playfully. "You better be. We carried the torch in your absence."
Emma was watching Andrew again, eyes soft but uncertain. He noticed.
"What?"
She hesitated, then spoke. "You didn't ask about Jason."
He stilled. Then offered a slow nod. "I didn't want to overstep."
Kate's tone turned sharp. "You wouldn't be. Not after the way he acted."
Michael sighed. "Yeah. He ghosted us. Even after the breakup. Emma hasn't seen him in months."
Andrew blinked. "You and Jason... broke up?"
Emma gave a small, tired nod. "About six months ago. He changed. Got distant. Then... just gone."
Andrew leaned back, his mind racing.
Kate was watching him closely. "Don't say something noble and stupid like you're sorry."
Andrew gave a half-grin. "I wasn't going to."
But inside, something had shifted.
He hadn't known. Of course he hadn't. The distance between them had swallowed that part of the world whole. But now that he did know...
He looked at Emma.
She was tapping her nail against the ceramic mug, a habit she always had when she was trying not to feel too much. Her eyes were on the window, but her mind wasn't.
He felt a pang in his chest. Not of joy, exactly. Not yet. But possibility.
He stood.
"Another round?"
Michael raised his cup. "Make mine double shot."
Kate looked amused. "Earl Grey. And don't forget the lemon this time."
Andrew turned to Emma. "You?"
She looked up at him. Their eyes met. And for a moment, neither spoke.
Then she smiled, just faintly.
"Surprise me."
He nodded and turned toward the counter, his steps light.
Behind him, the others settled into conversation again. But Emma watched his back the whole way.
He was different. That was true.
But in the places that mattered most... he was still Andrew.
And maybe, just maybe, this time she wouldn't miss it.