She hadn't planned to come back.
That was the lie she told herself as her steps slowed near the old street.
The houses hadn't changed much. Paint faded, fences repaired poorly, the road still uneven in places. Even the iron gate ahead—slightly bent at the hinge—stood exactly where it always had.
She stopped in front of it.
The silence felt heavier here.
Not uncomfortable.
Familiar.
Her hand hovered near the latch, then pulled back. She didn't know why her chest felt tight. This was just an old house. An old assignment overlap. Nothing more.
That's when she heard her name.
"Ma'am."
The voice was calm. Direct.
She turned instantly, posture sharpening, eyes scanning.
Noah stood a few steps away.
Not nervous.
Not hesitant.
Just… present.
Her grip tightened around the strap of her bag.
Why is he here?
"You shouldn't be following teachers after school," she said evenly.
"I wasn't," Noah replied. "I live nearby."
She studied his face, searching for intent, pattern, threat.
None surfaced.
Her gaze flicked briefly to the house behind her.
"You recognized it," he continued, almost casually. "You used to live here, right?"
A pause—half a second too long.
"That's irrelevant," she said. "This is a private matter."
Her tone was professional. Controlled. Perfect.
Noah nodded, accepting it without protest.
"I thought so," he said. "Because… when I was a kid, someone here helped me."
She stiffened.
Helped?
"With some kittens," he added. "A few older kids were hurting them. You called animal protection."
Her breath caught before she could stop it.
A memory pushed forward—uninvited.
Dusty ground.
A small boy standing in front of shaking animals, fists clenched, bleeding but stubborn.
Don't cry. It hurts longer if you cry.
Her hand moving on its own, ruffling his hair.
A childish voice, too serious for its size—
I'll get big fast. Then I'll marry you.
Her vision sharpened.
She stepped back.
"That was a long time ago," she said quickly. "You're mistaken."
She turned away before he could respond.
"I have somewhere to be," she added, already walking. "Don't read into coincidences."
Footsteps faded behind her.
She didn't look back.
When she reached the gate again, she stopped.
The street was empty now.
Her fingers lifted, touching her hair unconsciously—exactly where a small hand once had.
"I'll marry you."
The words echoed faintly, incomplete but persistent.
She exhaled slowly.
"…He's really him," she whispered.
She closed the gate and walked away, leaving the house behind—
and a truth she wasn't ready to face.