Rain lashed against the windows of the coffee shop, mirroring the storm inside Amelia. She watched Liam, across the small table, sip his latte, a genuine smile playing on his lips as he chatted with the barista. He didn't even glance her way. Not once. She’d rehearsed this meeting for weeks, imagining the moment he’d recognize her, the shared laughter, the flood of memories. Now, all she felt was a hollow ache in her chest.
Her fingers traced the rim of her untouched cappuccino. The familiar scent of coffee felt alien, the warmth offering no comfort. She'd told herself, as she'd rehearsed her lines, that he'd be thrilled to see her. She'd envisioned that he would remember the treehouse, the scraped knees, the shared secrets whispered under starry skies.
She cleared her throat, finally. "Liam, remember the summer we spent by the lake?" she asked, her voice sounding thin, even to her own ears. He tilted his head, a polite, vaguely interested look on his face. "Oh, I've spent a few summers by lakes," he replied, and then turned back to the barista, resuming their earlier conversation about the weather. Amelia felt a cold, hard knot form in her stomach.