The meeting finally ended, and she let out a long sigh. She leaned back in her chair, stretching her arms behind her head, then slowly tilted her neck left and right, trying to shake off the stiffness.
"It's a very long meeting."
That meeting had sucked the life out of her.
The conference room felt like a sealed box. Cold air from the AC hummed nonstop, mixing with the annoying buzz of fluorescent lights above. The walls were covered in dull gray panels that seemed to have never known happiness. A long table sat in the center, buried under messy papers, open files, and half-empty coffee cups, silent proof that everyone inside had given up halfway through.
She glanced around and thought one thing very clearly.
She needed air. Or coffee. Or maybe both.
"Yeah, I know," Sam said, rubbing his face like the meeting had personally offended him. He pointed his thumb toward the cafeteria. "Coffee?"
She stood up immediately, as he had just offered her oxygen. "Yes," she said, stretching again. "Before I actually start dreaming with my eyes open."
Sam laughed and grabbed his phone. "That bad?"
"I counted the ceiling tiles to stay awake," she said, following him out. "Twice."
They worked in finance, which mostly meant sitting for too long and pretending numbers were exciting. Meetings came and went, and somehow they always felt longer than they were. By the end of most days, coffee wasn't a want. It was survival.
As they walked toward the cafeteria, she already felt more human. Maybe it was the promise of caffeine. Maybe it was just nice to escape her desk without someone calling her name.
Either way, coffee had never sounded better.
He chuckled, and they walked to the cafeteria just outside the office. It was small but cozy, the kind of place that instantly felt better than a desk and a computer screen. The lighting was warm, the chairs actually comfortable, and the smell of coffee hit her the moment they stepped inside.
Her stomach growled right on cue.
She ordered a chocolate latte loaded with whipped cream and a plate of waffles, no shame involved. Sam went for plain black coffee, which she silently judged. As they waited for their orders, she noticed the garden outside through the large glass windows. Tall trees swayed gently, green and calm, like they belonged to a different world. One without meetings.
They took a seat by the window. She sank into the chair and felt her shoulders relax almost immediately. One sip of the latte and she sighed softly. Sweet, creamy, perfect. She cut a piece of waffle and popped it into her mouth, instantly happier.
She glanced at Sam as he drank his coffee. "I honestly don't understand how people drink something that tastes like regret."
Sam raised an eyebrow, completely unbothered. "It builds character."
"That's what suffering always says," she replied, eyeing his cup.
He smirked and leaned closer, holding the coffee near her face. "You want to try it. I can tell."
The strong smell hit her nose, and she immediately leaned away. "Absolutely not. Get lost."
She turned back to her waffles, smiling as she ate. Outside, the sun dipped lower, painting the garden in soft gold. For a moment, everything felt calm. Too calm.
Her phone rang.
She checked the screen. Unknown number.
"Hey, go on," she said, standing up. "I'll take this and catch up with you later."
Sam nodded, finished his coffee, and headed out.
She walked toward the washbasin, balancing the phone between her cheek and shoulder as she answered the call. The cafeteria hummed quietly around her, the clink of cups and distant voices filling the space as she rinsed her hands, unaware that the peaceful moment was already slipping away.
"Hello, who is this?" she asked. Her voice echoed softly in the quiet space near the sink.
"It's me."
Her hand stilled. The voice was familiar. Too familiar. A cold feeling slid down her spine, but she kept her expression neutral, even though he couldn't see it.
"And who is 'me'?" she asked, careful with her tone.
A brief pause followed. Then, "Rylan."
The name hit her harder than she expected. Her chest tightened, memories rising before she could stop them. She took a slow breath, forcing herself to stay calm.
"Rylan?" she said evenly. "Which Rylan?"
"Don't pretend," he replied. His voice was firm, certain. "You remember me."
Her grip on the phone tightened. "So what if I do?"
"I want to meet," he said. There was no hesitation in his voice.
The words made her tense. It didn't sound like a request. It sounded like he had already decided.
"You don't get to decide that," she said quietly. "I'm busy. This isn't a good time."
She was about to end the call when his voice came again, lower now.
"Don't hang up."
Her finger hovered over the screen.
"I suppose you don't even want to know why we broke up," he said.
The words immediately tightened something in her chest.
"I don't have time for this," she replied, her voice cold and controlled.
"Don't lie," he said quietly, pushing. "I know how much it hurt when I left. Don't you want to know the reason?"
That did it.
Her chest felt heavy, emotions rising before she could stop them. She closed her eyes for a second, then spoke fast, before she could change her mind.
"Text me the place and time," she said. "Now. Goodbye."
She ended the call before he could say anything else.
Standing there, she told herself the same thing she always did. Meeting him would not change anything. She no longer had feelings for him. Whatever they once were, it was over.
She had repeated that lie many times.
Because deep down, she knew the truth. Forgetting him had never been possible. He was her first love, and in some quiet corner of her heart, he still existed.
As she walked back, memories surfaced without permission. The dark days. The happy ones. Moments she had buried but never erased. They blended, heavy and vivid, reminding her of a time that had shaped her in ways she could never undo.
Some memories never faded. They simply waited.