We met at the fire exit — same place, different lives.
It felt like déjà vu. The same chipped paint, the same hum of the city far below. But we weren't the same people. And that silence between us knew it too.
He was already there when I pushed the door open. Leaning on the rail like he was bracing for something. Maybe me.
"Mara," he said softly, like he wasn't sure if I was real.
I didn't answer right away. I just stood beside him and let the weight of everything we never said fill the air.
"I thought of you every day," he said eventually. "Even when I didn't deserve to."
His voice cracked on the word deserve.
"I thought seeing you again would hurt," he continued. "But it doesn't. Not like that. It just… it just reminds me of everything I lost. Everything I left."
I swallowed hard.
"I wasn't ready then," he said. "Not for the kind of love you gave me. Not for the kind of man you saw in me."
I turned toward him, finally.
"And now?"
He met my eyes. "Now I'm becoming him."
The silence between us trembled.
"I'm not asking for everything, Mara. Not today. Just… maybe one day, when you're ready, and I'm more whole — could there be space for us again?"
I blinked back tears. Not because it hurt. But because for once, his words didn't feel like a lie wrapped in softness. They felt true.
"I don't know," I said honestly. "But I want to believe there could be."
His chest rose with something fragile. Hope.
"I need to choose myself first, Elián," I whispered. "For the first time in a long time."
He stepped closer, not touching me, just… standing in it with me.
"Then I'll wait. In the way you deserve — not in silence, not in absence. But by becoming better."
I smiled. Small. Tired. But real.
"Then maybe this isn't the end."
He nodded. "Maybe it's just the beginning of something slower. Something right."
And just before he turned to leave, he said, "I'll be here, Mara. In the light, this time."
And that… that was enough.
I told Isla everything.
She didn't interrupt. Just handed me a hot compress and a pack of Sky Flakes, then sat across from me like a therapist who didn't get paid enough for this drama.
"You're not seriously considering him again," she finally said.
"I'm not," I answered.
"Good," she nodded. "Because I swear, if you go through one more reincarnated heartbreak—"
"I said I'm not!"
She sighed. "And Jace?"
I hesitated. "He asked."
"Marriage?"
I nodded.
"And?"
"I told him I'd think about it."
Isla raised her brows so high they nearly left her face.
"He's safe, Isla. He's kind."
"But he's not the wildfire," she said. "He's the lighthouse."
I blinked.
She softened. "And I think after everything you've been through… you deserve calm. You deserve soft."
Later that night, I met Jace in the park. Same bench. Same gentle quiet.
"I'm not ready," I told him. "But if I ever am, and I choose you — it won't be out of fear. Or pain. It'll be love. Just love."
He smiled sadly.
"I can live with that," he said. "I'd wait forever if I knew you were walking toward me. But even if you don't — I'll still be rooting for you."
We stayed like that, under the streetlight glow, no promises. Just peace.
"Some people offer you forever when all you're trying to hold is yourself.
And sometimes, love isn't about choosing someone —
it's about choosing to heal before you do."