A week passed after that encounter at the bookstore.
I thought that would be it — a brief moment, a passing memory, nothing more.
But fate, it seemed, had other plans.
Liam texted me two days later.
Liam: Hey, we're planning to hang out this weekend. You should come.
Me: "We"?
Liam: Yeah, Clara and some old friends from high school. It'll be fun.
I stared at the message for a long time before replying.
Part of me wanted to say no. To protect whatever was left of my heart.
But another part — the weaker, nostalgic part — wanted to see him again, even if it meant watching him love someone else right in front of me.
So I said yes.
When I arrived, the café was alive with laughter. The same café where our story began — and quietly ended. Liam waved me over, eyes lighting up in that way I once thought was only for me.
"Macey! You made it!" he said, standing up to greet me.
Then I saw her.
Clara. Beautiful, effortless, gentle — everything I wasn't anymore. She smiled when our eyes met.
"Hi, Macey. I've heard a lot about you."
That one line made my heart stop. He talks about me?
I forced a polite smile. "All good things, I hope?"
She laughed softly. "Of course. Liam said you were his best friend back then."
Back then.
Two small words that cut deeper than they should.
As the afternoon went on, I watched them — how his hand naturally found hers, how she looked at him like he was her whole world. And he looked back the same way.
But every now and then, I caught him glancing at me. Quick, fleeting glances he thought I wouldn't notice.
And neither did Clara… at first.
Later, when Liam went to the counter to order, Clara leaned toward me, her tone light but her eyes searching.
"You and Liam must've been really close, huh?"
I swallowed hard. "Yeah. We were."
She smiled, but something in her expression changed — a hint of unease, maybe even curiosity.
"I can see that," she said quietly.
The moment lingered, heavy with words we didn't say.
When Liam came back, she greeted him with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.
And for the first time, I realized — she saw it too.
The way I looked at him.
The way he still looked at me.
And deep down, I knew this was where things would start to fall apart.