The coffee shop door chimed, and Elena froze mid-sip. She'd recognize that silhouette anywhere—broad shoulders, deliberate stride, the slight hesitation before scanning the room. Marcus. Three years, and her body still remembered.
Their eyes met. His widened first, then narrowed. Not surprise. Recognition and something else. Calculation, maybe. Or regret.
He walked toward her table. Elena set down her cup, steadying her hand.
"Elena." His voice was lower than she remembered. "I didn't think—"
"That I still lived here?" She kept her tone light, but her pulse hammered. "I don't. Just visiting my mother."
He pulled out the chair across from her without asking. The old Marcus would have asked. "Can we talk?"
"Depends." She leaned back. "Are you going to tell me why you disappeared, or are we doing small talk?"
A muscle twitched in his jaw. "I had reasons."
"Everyone has reasons, Marcus."
"Mine might surprise you."
She raised an eyebrow. Three years of silence, and now he wanted to explain? But curiosity won out, as it always did with him. "You have ten minutes."
He glanced at the door, then at his watch. Nervous. When had Marcus ever been nervous? "Not here. Walk with me?"
Red flags everywhere. But Elena stood, grabbing her coat. Some questions demanded answers, even dangerous ones.
Outside, autumn rain misted the sidewalk. Marcus turned left toward the old pier, their pier, where everything had started.
"Why that way?" she asked.
"Because you need to see something." He stopped, turning to face her fully. "Something I should have shown you three years ago."
Elena's breath caught. In his eyes, she saw fear. Real fear.
"What did you do, Marcus?"
He reached into his jacket. Elena's instinct screamed run, but her feet stayed planted.
"I didn't leave because I wanted to, Elena." His hand emerged holding a worn envelope. "I left because they told me if I stayed, you'd die."
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