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Colleen didn’t tell anyone she was coming back.
Not her best friend. Not even her sister, who always had something to say. She didn’t owe this city any explanations — especially not him.
She told herself it was just to get her things. To finally tie up the loose ends. To close the door gently, rather than leave it swinging half-open in the wind.
But as the cab turned into their street, something knotted in her stomach. The city hadn’t changed — but she had. And she wondered if she would even recognize the version of herself who used to come home to that apartment every day, laughing, believing, building a future on borrowed trust.
She stood outside the door for a moment too long.
Then knocked.
Not out of politeness. Just to remind herself that this wasn’t her home anymore.
A Door Half-Open
Andrei opened the door with tired eyes. He didn’t look surprised — only... grateful. As if he’d been expecting her, not today specifically, but somehow believing she’d return when she was ready.
“Hi,” he said, voice low.
“Hi,” she replied.
Silence fell between them. Not hostile. Not awkward. Just... full. Full of all the things they still hadn’t said, and maybe never would.
“I just came for the rest of my things,” she added quickly.
“Yeah. Of course. I didn’t touch anything,” he said, stepping aside.
She walked in.
The air felt different. Cleaner. Quieter. But more than that — there was an energy shift. The apartment wasn’t cluttered anymore, but it wasn’t polished either. It was lived-in, but lonely.
He had been here. Waiting.
The Letters
She found her books where she left them, her old mug still in the cabinet. Her photos had been taken down — but carefully placed in a neat envelope on the coffee table.
But what caught her eye was the drawer.
Her drawer.
And in it: ten letters, neatly bound.
Her heart pounded. She didn’t open them. Not yet. But her name was written on every envelope, in a handwriting she knew too well — only shakier, as if written during storms.
“What are these?” she asked, holding them up.
His voice cracked. “Everything I should’ve said. Everything I didn’t know how to say.”
She looked at him. Really looked. There was no self-pity in his eyes. Just regret. And... something softer. Something painful. Growth, maybe.
“Andrei,” she whispered. “I didn’t come back for you.”
“I know,” he said gently.
“I came back for me.”
He nodded, eyes shining. “Then that’s exactly what I want for you.”
Before She Left Again
She took the box of her things. The letters. The keys.
Then paused by the door.
“I don’t forgive you,” she said.
“I wouldn’t ask you to,” he replied.
“But I see it. The effort. The pain. You’re not pretending anymore.”
And for the first time in a long time, Andrei smiled — not in victory, but in relief.
“Thank you... for seeing it.”
Colleen turned away, walked down the hall.
But halfway down the stairs, she stopped.
The letters trembled in her arms.
She didn’t come back for him.
But maybe... just maybe... this wasn’t the end of their story.
Maybe closure wasn’t always a door closing.
Sometimes, it was a door left unlocked.
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