I didn't mean to tell Isla.
I didn't mean to walk into that café on Roces either. It was supposed to be a quiet afternoon. A walk to clear my head. One of those days where I let the city decide where I end up.
And somehow, I ended up at our place. Not that it was ever officially ours — but that café always reminded me of him. Warm light. Wooden tables. The kind of soft jazz that sounds like a memory.
And there he was.
Elian.
Just… there. Like the past hadn't collapsed between us. Like he hadn't vanished. Like I hadn't disappeared first.
I didn't cry. Not then. Not when our eyes met. Not when Jace walked in, like fate had decided to stack its cards all at once. I just stood there, holding my breath, feeling the entire timeline of us rush back all at once — the beginning, the middle, the breaking.
But now, sitting across from Isla, I'm the one unraveling.
"I saw him," I finally say.
She looks up from her drink, eyes wide. "Wait, him?"
"Elian."
Isla lowers her glass. She doesn't blink, like she knows if she does, I might fall apart.
"It felt like…" I trail off. "Like the first time again. But worse. Because this time I knew what came after."
She lets me talk. That's the thing with Isla — she never rushes me. She listens like she's trying to hear even the words I haven't said yet.
"He looked the same," I say quietly. "But tired. Like life had chipped away at him too."
"Did he say anything?"
I nod slowly. "A little. We were mid-sentence when Jace walked in."
"Oh, of course Jace walked in." Isla groans and leans back. "The drama. The ex-boyfriend and the twin flame in one café? What are you, the main character?"
I wince a little. "Don't call him that."
"What? Twin flame?"
I pause. Then say, "I don't even know if I believe in that anymore."
Isla raises an eyebrow. "Oh? That's big. You used to say he was your soul coming back to you."
"I know. But maybe I was just trying to name something that didn't want to be named."
She watches me. I exhale.
"He's not an ex," I add. "We were never… together-together. He was something else. Something in between."
Isla snorts, but kindly. "Right. That thing in-between where you gave your whole heart but got no definition in return."
I smile, but it's the sad kind. "You make it sound stupid."
"I make it sound realistic," she says, and then softens. "You romanticize it, Mara. You always did. Like it was something magical. But from where I stood. It was confusion. It was complications. It was you walking into fire thinking you wouldn't burn."
"I know," I whisper. "But I loved him."
"And I believe you," Isla says, quieter now. "But love without ground? It floats. That kind of love makes you lose yourself."
Silence.
"I saw Lucia again," I say after a while.
"The dream therapist?"
I nod. "She told me… 'Some loves return to teach. Others return to let go. But none come by accident.'"
Isla looks at me long and steady.
"So, which one was he?"
I shake my head. "I don't know. I thought I did. I was so sure."
She picks up a fry, and nudges the plate toward me. "You're allowed not to know."
"I just… don't want to wait anymore," I say, softer than I mean to. "But I don't know how to stop."
She squeezes my hand. "Then don't wait. Just live. Carry what was — but don't sit by the door hoping it knocks again."
I nod.
But deep inside me, there's still a quiet flicker. One that whispers:
When I looked at him, it didn't feel like goodbye.
It felt like a maybe.
And somehow, that's worse.