Rain drummed on the windshield as Luke slowed down as he entered his hometown. Ten years since he'd left.
Ten years since he'd last set foot in Montclair. The landscape was almost unchanged: the green hills with mist-shrouded peaks, the old brick buildings with faded signs, and the café on the corner of Main Street, "Rosie," where he'd spent so many mornings laughing with Ted.
He'd returned for the funeral of his Aunt Marie, the one person in his family who'd supported him, even when he'd decided to leave. She was sweet, understanding, and always had a kind word, a cup of hot tea, or a sympathetic look. Her absence left a tangible void. Luke thought he'd stay two days, three at most.
He wanted to avoid the memories, the chance encounters, the explanations. But when he entered the small café to warm up, he didn't expect to see him. Ted. He was there, behind the counter, a dishcloth in his hand, absentmindedly drying a cup. He looked up, and the world seemed to stop. His gaze fell on Luke, as if trying to believe what he was seeing. A second of eternity passed, where no words were necessary.
"Luke?"
They didn't speak long that day. A few polite sentences, hesitant glances. The café had changed, modernized a little, but the warmth of the place remained. Luke took his coffee to go and went out into the cold, but his heart was beating faster than it had been at seventeen.
He hadn't planned this face-to-face. He wasn't ready. The next day, he came back. Pretext: another coffee. But Ted wasn't there. Luke felt a slight disappointment he didn't allow himself to name. One Saturday afternoon, while strolling through the local market, he saw her near a honey stand. They smiled at each other.
This time, Ted invited her to walk by the lake, where they had once shared their first confidences, their first stolen kisses. The silence between them was heavy, but not empty. It was populated by unspoken memories, missed opportunities, still-open wounds.
"Did you blame me?" Ted asked,
staring into the dark water. Luke took a deep breath. The words were difficult, but necessary.
"Yes. But I was as scared as you were. We were young. We didn't know how... to face it all. Love, others, ourselves."
Ted turned his head toward him. His eyes were wet, but he smiled weakly, almost with relief.
The following week, they began seeing each other more often. A meal at Rosie's. A walk in the woods. Late-night talks, sitting on the hood of a car, gazing at the stars. They were slowly repairing what had been broken. Step by step. Word by word. Luke talked about his years in Montreal, his loneliness, his fleeting attempts at love.
His fear of committing again. His job in photography, and the times he thought of Ted while framing the light. Ted recounted the pressures of family, the silence that followed their breakup, the way he'd buried himself in work to stop feeling. He'd taken over Rosie's coffee after she retired. He'd waited without really realizing it.
"And yet you stayed,"
Luke said one evening, his voice low. Ted shrugged.
"Maybe I was hoping you'd come back. Or that I'd find the strength to go find you."
Under the stars, by the lake, Luke reached out his hand. Ted took it without hesitation this time. Their fingers intertwined as they had once, but with a newfound confidence.
"You can't change the past," Luke said.
"But you can choose what you do now." Ted nodded, his lips trembling with emotion.
"Let's keep it simple. Start with coffee tomorrow morning?" Luke smiled.
"My pleasure"
And that was enough. For today. Because sometimes, the love you thought was lost was just waiting for you to find the courage to come back.
Point of View: Luke (ch5 )
The next morning, Luke woke up earlier than expected. Silence reigned in his Aunt Marie's house, where he had been staying since returning to Montclair. Each room seemed frozen in time: the yellow lace curtains, the old green velvet armchair, the black and white photos on the sideboard. On a shelf, his gaze fell on a frame. He took it in his hands. It was a photo of him and Ted, smiling teenagers, sitting side by side at a picnic by the lake. Luke remembered that day as if it were yesterday: the summer light on Ted's skin, their fingers secretly brushing against each other, the stifled laughter between two confidences. A pang in his heart forced him to look away. He had come to say goodbye, not to reopen old wounds. And yet… To get some fresh air, he walked downtown and entered the bookstore of his childhood. The smell of new paper and polished wood immediately enveloped him. As he flipped through a novel at random, a familiar voice called out to him. "Luke Harper? Is that you?" He turned around. A woman with brown hair tied back in a braid, a bright smile on her lips. "Emma." "Emma Taylor?" he asked in surprise. "I can't believe this…" She hugged him warmly. Emma had been their friend in high school, the one who had always accepted their relationship without a cross word. Now she was married, with two children, and a teacher at the local school. "What are you doing here?" she asked gently. "My aunt died. I came back for the funeral." She nodded, then hesitated for a moment before saying, "You know… Ted was never the same after you left. He moved on with his life, but he never really recovered." Luke looked down, a lump in his throat. — Do you think he was still waiting for me? — I think he was hoping. Even if he never said it out loud. Luke left the bookstore a little shaken. Memories of the past mingled with the unexpected sweetness of this city that seemed to want to offer him a second chance. POV: Ted That evening, Ted remained alone in the cafe after closing time. He wiped the counter again and again, even though everything was already clean. His thoughts were elsewhere—with Luke. He sat down at the back booth, the one Luke always sat at in the past, sketchbook in hand, concentrating on his drawings. Ted could almost smile there now, a discreet smile on his lips, his hair a mess. He took out his phone and placed it in front of him. No messages. He hesitated. Should he write to her? Invite her somewhere? Or wait a little longer? At that moment, Rosie walked in. The former owner of the cafe sometimes dropped by to take a look. She had immediately noticed Ted's lost expression. "Do you still think about him?" she demanded bluntly. He nodded, his eyes fixed on the counter. "I'm scared, Rosie. What if he doesn't want me anymore?" She placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "If you really want to rebuild something, you're going to have to talk. Be honest. Maybe even suffer a little. But above all, you can't remain frozen in silence." Ted took a deep breath, then said, as if resolving, "I'm going to invite him to dinner." Rosie smiled softly, her eyes shining. "That's a good idea."