I walked inside the café and the warm smell of coffee and cigarette smoke filled my nostrils. I weaved my way between the close-set tables. At last, I spotted a familiar figure seated in the very back, facing away from me. It was Krys. My heart rose and then quickly fell again. Seated across from Krys was a stunning, dark-haired woman a few years older than me, watching him with a rapt expression as he spoke.

I stared at him, as if facing an apparition. How was it possible? I had dreamed and thought of him endlessly. At first, I had pictured him off fighting. As his letters slowed, I imagined him dead or wounded. But here he was, sitting in a café, a cup of coffee before him and another woman by his side, as if none of it had ever happened. As if we had not happened.

For a second, I was relieved, even glad to see him here and safe. But as the reality of the situation crashed down upon me, my anger flared. I marched across the café. Then I stopped, floundering momentarily, unsure what to say. The woman who was with Krys noticed me approaching and her expression turned to confusion. Krys turned, and our eyes met. The entire room seemed to stand still. Krys whispered something to the woman across from him, then stood, coming toward me. I started away and made it outside, feeling as though I was gasping for air. I kept going.

Krys quickly followed. “Ella, wait!” I wanted to run, but he caught me quickly with his long-legged gait, reaching for me before I could dodge. His fingers wrapped warm around my forearm, stopping me in his sure but gentle way. His touch filled my heart and broke it again, all at the same time. I looked up, awash in anger and hurt and happiness. Standing so close, I wanted to reach for him, to lay my head upon his chest and have the whole world fade away as it always had before. Then over his shoulder I saw the woman he’d been sitting with looking at us quizzically through the café window. My warm feelings faded.

“Ella,” Krys said again. He leaned in toward me. But the kiss he attempted was aimed at my cheek, worlds away from the passionate embrace we had shared when I last saw him. I pulled away. A hint of his familiar scent wafted by my nose and waves of painful memory rushed over me. An hour ago, the man I loved was still mine in my memories. But now he stood before me—really here yet a stranger.

“When did you return?” I asked.

“Just a few days ago.” I wondered if that was true. His father had said two weeks. It wasn’t like Krys to lie—but I never thought he would keep his return from me either. “I was coming to see you,” he added.

“After your date at the café?” I shot back in retort.