The café was unusually quiet that evening. Warm lights glowed against the glass as Feriha sat by the window, her fingers wrapped around a cup of cinnamon latte. 🥛
She had been waiting for almost ten minutes, her heartbeat strangely restless.
When the door opened, Eric walked in ; rain-damp hair, tired eyes, and that familiar calmness that always reached her first. He spotted her instantly.
"Sorry, I'm late," he said, sliding into the seat across from her. 😌
"It's okay," Feriha replied with a small smile. "Rough day?"
"A bit," he admitted. "But seeing you helps."
Her cheeks warmed, but she pretended to look out the window instead. 😊
For a moment, they spoke about ordinary things ; the project he was designing, the classes she was taking, her attempts to fix her sleep schedule. But beneath the conversation, something heavier lingered.
Finally, Eric cleared his throat. "Feriha… can I ask you something?"
She nodded slowly.
"That day… when you walked away from my apartment… were you angry? Or… hurt?"🤔
Feriha lowered her gaze. She wanted to tell him the truth ; that she had been both. That she had felt stupid for caring too much and scared of feeling even more.
But instead she said, "I just needed space."
Eric studied her quietly. "I don't want to lose whatever this is between us."
Her heart tightened. "You won't," she whispered, though she wasn't fully sure.
A soft silence settled. Then the waiter brought two pastries ; the ones Eric always ordered , and somehow the tension eased.
Eric pushed one toward her. "You'll like it." 😍
She took a bite. Warm, sweet, soft. And something inside her softened too.
Just before they left, Eric gently held her wrist. "Feriha… if you ever feel like talking ;really talking , I'll listen. Always."
Her breath caught. Their eyes met, and for a moment, the world outside the café faded.
She didn't confess anything. Neither did he.
But something unspoken settled between them ; fragile, hopeful, waiting. 🙂