Where our hearts return

ssed the pavement outside Chapters & Charms, a small, warm bookstore café tucked between a vintage flower shop and an art gallery that never seemed t

gling with the paper-sweet aroma of books and pastries. The café was empty, save for the ticking of the

ld dreams-and her hair was loosely tied, wisps curling against her cheekbones. She looked

or, switch on the hanging lantern lights, steep her tea, open the mail. Bills. Flyers. Occasionally a handwritten note fr

r invoice and a coupon from the bakery across

ress. But the handwriti

pe over, scanning for a clue that would prove her wrong. But there

ll

er name like that, like it w

n Ha

a sound Bella usually found comf

he high school junior who worked part-time and always arr

igan pocket and turned, forcing a smile. "Yes

lor Swift song, blissfully unaware of the emo

g the edge of the wooden surface. The letter puls

llow wasn't a big town-everyone knew everyone, and secrets were as hard to hide as fireflies in a jar. Still, Bell

il

tudents with earbuds, retirees looking for something new to read. Bella smiled, poure

sign to Back in 10, and climbed the narrow stairs to her office above the store. Once

hoping for? An explanation? An a

ned the

wrote with fountain pens, said ballpoints were too impersona

ll

all these years. I don't know where to begin except to say I'm sorry. For

I don't expect forgiveness, or even a response. But I needed you to know-what happe

If you ever want to talk... I'll

o

letter once. Tw

ime, her tears

they used to lie on the grass and make plans for the future. The place he wa

rs in the cold before re

d at the ceiling. A laugh escaped

y

But she carried the letter everywhere-pressed aga

ast streaks of sunset disappear behind the trees. Her reflection stared back at her-ol

coat and locked t

ing pines and wildflowers that never quite gave up, even in autumn. As she approached,

n she s

ma

unzipped despite the chill. His hair was shorter now, and there was a new line around his mo

d speak, as if he'd known

he said,

, her heart thund

she asked, her voice quie

"Because I couldn'

n. "Seven years, and n

excuses. Just to tell y

mething to anchor her. "You disapp

ght... I thought I had to take it. That if I stayed, I'd always wonder 'wh

e dirt path, her shoe

or you," sh

cracking. "And I'll never

rything unsaid. Then, softly, Roman reached

k. He

ection of poems she'd self-published

"All these years. I re

breath

serve a second chance. But I had to try.

ars, allowed herself to remember-not just the pain

is, Roman," she said.

ed. "Then maybe i