The Bookshop Between Us

The scent of aged paper and freshly brewed coffee lingered in the air as Sophie tucked herself into the corner of the little bookshop café. She had always loved this place—its quiet charm, the rows of bookshelves stacked with forgotten stories, the cozy armchairs perfect for losing oneself in a novel. But today, her usual solace felt… different.

Because today, he was here.

Daniel stood by the poetry section, flipping absentmindedly through a book. He hadn’t seen her yet. Or maybe he had and was pretending not to. Either way, Sophie couldn’t tear her eyes away from him.

It had been six months since they had last spoken, six months since their relationship had ended in a whirlwind of words left unsaid. And yet, here he was, standing just a few feet away, looking as if he still belonged in the pages of her life.

Before she could talk herself out of it, she stood, her heart hammering against her ribs as she approached him.

“Still reading Neruda, I see,” she said softly.

Daniel turned, his expression flickering between surprise and something else—something unreadable. “Sophie.”

She swallowed, waiting for him to say more.

A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he held up the book. “Old habits die hard.”

She let out a breathy chuckle. “That they do.”

For a moment, silence settled between them, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was familiar, filled with the echoes of late-night conversations and whispered poetry readings.

“How have you been?” he asked, his voice quieter now.

Sophie hesitated. The truth was, she had missed him more than she had been willing to admit—to herself, to anyone. But how could she say that? Instead, she offered a careful answer.

“I’ve been… okay. You?”

Daniel exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “Same.” He paused, flipping the book shut. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

She tilted her head. “Why not? This was always our place.”

His lips parted slightly, as if he wanted to say something, but then he simply nodded. “Yeah. It was.”

The weight of the past hung between them, but so did something else—an undeniable pull, a lingering thread of unfinished sentences.

Sophie cleared her throat. “Do you still take your coffee the same way?”

Daniel looked at her, really looked at her, and in that moment, the walls she had built around herself felt fragile.

“Yeah,” he said. “And you still read the last page of a book first, don’t you?”

She laughed softly, shaking her head. “Some things never change.”

For a long moment, they stood there, as if waiting for the universe to tell them what came next. And maybe it wasn’t about the past or the mistakes they had made. Maybe it was about this—about the bookshop between them, about the possibility of turning to a new chapter.

Daniel took a step closer, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Would you want to get coffee? Catch up?”

Sophie hesitated—but only for a second.

“Yeah,” she said, a small smile playing on her lips. “I’d like that.”

And just like that, the story of them wasn’t over. Not yet.