The café was quiet in a way that felt deliberate, as though the world itself had lowered its voice out of respect for what might be said there.
Stephan sat across from Madeline, his blue turtleneck neat, his black trousers sharply pressed, white sneakers spotless—too spotless, as if he were trying to scrub away the mess his life had become. He looked nothing like the boy who used to laugh too loudly and ride his bike without a care. This version of him sat straighter, spoke less, and carried something heavy behind his eyes.
Madeline studied him for a moment before speaking.
"I never thought you'd be the one waiting," she said quietly.
Stephan let out a breath that almost resembled a laugh. "I never thought you'd come."
Her gaze softened, then sharpened. "You look… different."
He nodded slowly. "Everything is different now. Nothing stayed where I left it."
A brief silence settled between them, broken only by the clink of a spoon against porcelain from another table.
"She hasn't come around yet?" Madeline asked.
Stephan shook his head. "I called her. More than once."
"And?"
"She didn't pick up."
Madeline tilted her head slightly. "Did you send messages?"
"Yes." His fingers curled unconsciously on the table. "She read them. Every one of them. She just… didn't reply."
Madeline's eyes darkened—not with anger, but with truth. "Stephan," she said gently, "did it ever occur to you that you were the one who chose your family over her?"
His shoulders sagged. His head dropped, a bitter smile tugging weakly at his lips.
"I just wanted to feel the warmth of having a family," he admitted. Then he looked up at her—really looked at her. "Can you do me a favor?"
Madeline hesitated, then nodded. "Sure."
"Can you help me see her?" His voice was steady, but there was desperation threaded through it. "Just once."
She exhaled slowly. "I can try. But that's all I can promise. I won't force her."
"As long as we meet," he said, almost pleading, "that's enough for me."
Madeline stood, slinging her bag over her shoulder. "Wait here. I'll go to her place and talk to her. I don't know how long it'll take."
Stephan didn't hesitate. "I'll wait," he said. "No matter how long."
She studied him one last time—this boy caught between blood and love—then nodded.
"Okay."
As Madeline walked out of the café, Stephan remained seated, unmoving, as though leaving his place would mean admitting defeat. Outside, the city continued its usual rhythm. Inside, time slowed, stretching painfully thin.
For the first time since choosing his family, Stephan understood the cost of that choice—and wondered if waiting would be enough to undo it.