He chuckles nervously. “Look, I still have all the stuff you left in the closet. And I know it’s been several months, but I… I feel like I never explained to you why we… you know. Maybe we can talk while you come get your stuff? Sorry it took so long to get to this point. I think I needed some time to process.”

But then, I finally hear it. The sadness in his voice. The wretched grief and pain that I wanted to hear from him since that first Monday I saw him after the breakup.

I frown. “Did you and Daphne break up?”

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah. But that’s not why I came to talk to you, I swear. Or at least, I don’t want to get back together or anything. Breaking up with Daphne made me realize how fucked up our breakup left me. And I figured, you probably understand that more than anyone.”

I think back to all the things I did after our breakup and wince. Plus, I never found out why James decided to end our engagement. Closure, I guess, would be nice.

I also want my stuff back, now that I have the space for everything.

“Okay,” I finally say.

Later today, we leave the office together, and I notice small changes in the late afternoon light. James’s hair is longer and shaggier than he usually cut it when we were dating. His glasses are different, too, gray instead of the black frames he had when we were together. He seems a lot older, more mature somehow, although realistically he probably doesn’t have more than one or two new wrinkles. I wonder if our breakup aged me as well.

He’s familiar and foreign, all at once.

We walk mostly in silence to our—his—condo, only talking occasionally when he brings up the new food trucks or stores that popped up since the last time we walked this path together. He also asks about me and my parents, and I ask him about his family. I hate to admit it, but catching up like this is nice. After all, we dated for seven years, and it’s not like we hated each other’s loved ones during the time we were together.

I guess there will always be a part of my life that’s enmeshed with him, like a part of his will always be with me.

When we get to the condo, James says, “So, I’ve made quite a few changes since, um… you moved out.”

He opens the door, and my jaw drops open. When we lived together, our condo wasn’t exactly spacious, but it was very cozy and warm, with shelves full of books and plants. We also had a TV, on which James and I binge-watched shows and played video games together, all while our soft, plush rug kept our feet warm.