When We Were Us

Ten years ago, Nathan Carter vanished from Joan Ellis's world like morning fog burned off by slow, silent, inevitable sunlight. One minute, he was her partner in all things chaotic and imaginative: treehouse kingdoms, chalkboard secrets, endless summer dares. The next, he was just... gone.

No phone call. No goodbye. Just the aching hollow of absence.

Joan used to believe she could trace her life back to that moment, like a tree root split at the base. The years since then had been a blur of change, new cities, new schools, failed romances, but part of her always lingered in Windmere, in those warm, golden hours when everything still made sense.

And now she's back.

Back in Windmere. Back in her grandmother's rusted old Volvo, parked in front of the only bookstore in town.

She hadn't meant to stop here. It was supposed to be a quick drive through memory lane, just long enough to clear her head after a soul-sucking breakup and a creative rut that had her questioning everything.

But the lights inside the shop called to her. Familiar. Soft. Warm.

She steps in, and the scent hits her first: vanilla, aged paper, cinnamon. Time folds in on itself. Her boots creak on the wooden floor as she takes a few hesitant steps in, her eyes adjusting to the golden glow of amber bulbs overhead.

Then she sees him.

Nathan.

Older, broader, quieter. He's bent over a box of paperbacks, sleeves rolled up, ink snaking up his forearm. He's still got that same thoughtful tilt to his head, like he's listening to something the rest of the world can't hear.

She opens her mouth, and before she can stop herself, the name slips out. "Nathan?"

He straightens, startled. His eyes-those deep, familiar eyes-widen as they land on her. For a moment, it's like time breathes in reverse.

"Joan?" he says softly, almost in disbelief.

Her throat tightens. "Hey."

They stand there, surrounded by the hush of old stories and old memories, the air charged with something unsaid.

Nathan steps forward, uncertainty flickering in his gaze. "I thought you moved away for good."

"I did," she says. "Life had other plans."

He nods, and it's like watching someone hold back a storm. "So... you're back."

"For now," she replies, not trusting herself to say more.

Nathan studies her for a second longer, then gestures toward the old reading nook in the back. "You want some tea? Still like chamomile?"

Her heart stutters. He remembered.

She nods, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Yeah. That'd be nice."

And just like that, the bookstore holds two ghosts in its walls-one pouring tea, the other wondering what happens next when the past walks in through the door.