I barely slept.
Images loop in my head like a movie with no ending:
the canal, the red book, his gaze, and that word.
Clara. Three syllables that sound like a warning.
In the morning, Mila shows up before I even have coffee.
"Well? Did he answer?"
I nod, dark circles under my eyes.
"Yeah. A 'it's complicated.'"
"Typical. And did you ask what that meant?"
"He said 'not tonight.'"
She exhales sharply.
"'Not tonight' means 'never.' Guys like that push everything back until you drop it."
"Or until they find the right words to lie, yeah."
"So?"
"So nothing. I'm waiting."
Mila studies me.
"Léna, if you wait too long, he'll write the ending for you."
I don't answer. Because the worst part is… she's right. The day drags.
Every buzz from my phone makes me flinch.
Nothing.
Total silence.
Between clients, I sit by the window and watch people walk.
The world keeps moving, indifferent, while I stay stuck in a conversation left hanging.
Around 6 p.m., I break.
"If you want us to stop talking, just say it. But no half-truths, Noah."
Message sent.
No reply.
Two hours later, as I'm closing the salon, a notification finally appears:
"It's not that. I just want to explain in person. Tonight?"
My heart stumbles.
I type:
"Where?"
"Where it all started."
It's already dark when I reach the canal.
The air is cold, damp.
Noah is sitting on the same bench as the first time, the red book beside him.
When he sees me, he stands immediately.
"Thanks for coming."
"I didn't promise to stay long."
He nods.
"I understand."
Silence.
The water slaps softly against the edge.
I cross my arms.
"So? Clara?"
He closes his eyes for a second.
"She was… someone important."
"Your ex?"
"Yes."
A cold wave rolls through me. I expected it, but hearing it out loud is different.
"And?"
"She's… dead."
The word falls like a stone into the water.
No echo. Just a shiver.
I stare at him, speechless.
"When?"
"Three years ago. Car accident. We'd been together for two years."
My throat tightens.
"And where did you meet her?"
"… on LovLink."
I take a step back.
He lifts his hands slightly, as if to calm me.
"It's not what you think."
"What I think is that you went back on the same app where you lost someone. You don't see how that's… messed up?"
"I tried to stop. But I needed to understand. To replay the story, differently."
I shake my head, stunned.
"Replay the story? Are you trying to replace Clara?"
"No."
"Then what?"
"Fix something."
He takes one step closer; his voice barely trembles.
"When she died, I was driving. I was the one behind the wheel."
Time stops.
I hear my own heartbeat louder than the wind.
"Noah…"
"I've never told anyone. Not even my family. I don't know why I'm telling you. Maybe because you actually listen."
He lowers his head.
"Since then, I've lived with this emptiness. I tried everything to feel human again. Photography, work, the apps… nothing changed. And then there was you."
I freeze.
He looks at me as if I'm the light at the end of some tunnel.
But all I see is the shadow behind it.
"You should've told me, Noah."
"I know. I was scared you'd leave."
"And now?"
"Now I know that if you leave, I'll deserve it."
I close my eyes.
The cold seeps under my skin. Part of me wants to hold him; the other wants to run as far as possible.
I finally whisper:
"I don't know what to do with all this."
"You don't have to do anything. Just know the truth."
I step back.
"I need time."
"Take all the time you want."
I turn away before my tears fall.
On the way home, Mila calls.
I answer without thinking.
"So?"
My voice breaks:
"He told me everything. And it's worse than I thought."
She doesn't ask anything, not right away.
"I'm coming to your place."
"No, Mila. Not tonight."
I walk home alone, head full of images I've never seen:
a car, pounding rain, a scream.
And in the middle of it all,
the same boy in a gray hoodie whispering:
"I just wanted to fix something."