The late afternoon sun spilled across the campus like molten gold, turning the familiar paths into rivers of light. Seraphina hoisted her bag over her shoulder, the weight of textbooks and assignments pressing lightly, though not as heavy as the emotions she carried these days. Her classes had ended, and she was eager to retreat to the solitude of her hostel room, a cup of tea, and the comforting quiet.
The corridors were mostly empty now. She moved quickly, boots clicking against the polished floors, each step echoing in the serene silence. She ignored the buzzing of her phone—no messages from Alden, not that she had expected any—and focused on the simple rhythm of walking.
And then she saw him.
Thaddeus's car gleamed under the sinking sun, parked with casual precision along the edge of the pathway. He leaned against it, arms folded, the very picture of calm confidence, yet his eyes searched for her like someone hoping to find a fleeting treasure.
"Thaddeus," she said sharply, forcing her voice to carry an edge she didn't quite feel. She tried to keep walking. Her pulse quickened despite herself.
"Seraphina," he called gently, "wait."
She wanted to ignore him, to move past this familiar pull without faltering, but before she could, he slid into the driver's seat and opened the passenger door. "Just… hear me out," he said softly, almost pleading.
Her fingers tightened around her bag strap. "I… I'm fine," she murmured. Yet something in his tone, the way it trembled with honesty, made her pause. Reluctantly, she climbed into the car, the door shutting behind her with a soft click that seemed louder than it should.
The engine hummed to life, and they drove in silence for a while. The streetlights weren't on yet, and the late afternoon sun bathed everything in amber and rose. Seraphina stared out the window, watching shadows stretch lazily across the pavement, feeling the familiar hum of the city, yet feeling strangely disconnected from it.
Finally, he spoke. "I've missed this," he said, voice low, almost reverent. "Just… being here with you. Talking. Driving. It… it feels like something I've lost."
She pressed her lips together, fighting the flinch that rose at the mention of "lost." "I've missed… peace," she said carefully, choosing words that were true but not revealing too much.
Thaddeus glanced at her, catching the faint tremor in her hands. "I know I messed up," he admitted. "I know I hurt you, and I can't erase it. But I've… replayed it over and over, trying to figure out why I let it all happen."
She looked away, staring at the passing trees, her mind a swirl of old memories, some bittersweet, others painful.
The car fell quiet again, until the skyline appeared, bringing with it the rooftop—the place where they had first kissed, where he had nervously asked her to be his girlfriend. Her chest tightened involuntarily, and a shiver ran down her spine. Her eyes glistened as waves of nostalgia hit her—memories of soft laughter, the warmth of his hand, the gentle brush of lips in the golden light of that evening.
Thaddeus noticed the change immediately. "I thought… maybe you'd like to see this place again," he said softly. "Just… us. For a moment."
They climbed out and made their way to the edge of the rooftop. The city spread beneath them, lights twinkling like fireflies against the darkening sky. The wind whispered around them, gentle and persistent, carrying with it scents of the evening—fresh grass, distant street food, and faintly, the memory of their first night here.
"Do you remember this night?" he asked, a small, nervous smile tugging at his lips.
Seraphina exhaled slowly, letting the question hang. "How could I forget?" she said quietly. "Everything about it… was perfect. You were so nervous you kept fidgeting with my hand before you kissed me."
He chuckled, the sound low and warm. "I was terrified," he admitted. "And yet… it was the best night of my life. I'd remember every detail even if I tried to forget."
Her gaze softened, lingering on him. "The city looked magical that night… but it wasn't the city. It was us. It was… this moment. Just you and me, and nothing else mattered."
They fell into a reflective silence, watching the lights flicker below. Then, almost hesitantly, Thaddeus spoke. "I've… done terrible things," he said, voice tight. "I humiliated you, embarrassed you. And I… I regret every single second of it. I… I still love you, Seraphina. I've never stopped. I know I shouldn't, but I do. And I wanted… I wanted us back."
Her chest tightened, the familiar ache she had tried to bury resurfacing. She didn't speak immediately. Her hands curled into her lap as she processed his words. "You… you really mean that?" she asked softly.
He nodded, eyes glistening slightly. "Every word. I can't promise it'll erase the past, but… I want to make it right. I want… you."
She stayed silent, just listening, letting the emotions wash over her.
To lighten the heavy moment, she shifted slightly and asked, "Have you seen Elowen lately? And Callum? He's been staring at her all semester, hasn't he?"
Thaddeus laughed softly, a short, awkward sound. "He's been obvious about it. She doesn't notice half the time. Typical Callum, trying to play it cool and failing miserably."
Seraphina smiled despite herself. "I don't know if I should warn him or just let him continue suffering." She laughed, a sound light and musical, and for a moment, they forgot the weight of the past.
"You'd probably just tease him endlessly," he said, nudging her lightly with his shoulder.
"I would," she admitted, her eyes sparkling. "But I'd make sure he notices eventually."
They talked for a long while, drifting into campus gossip, minor annoyances, and absurd student tales, each sharing their observations. There were moments when their eyes met and lingered—long enough for a spark of something old to flare—but one of them would always glance away first, cheeks heating, laughter filling the brief awkward silence.
Eventually, the conversation softened again, returning to memories. Thaddeus leaned back slightly, taking in the rooftop and the way the sun had given way to early evening. "I remember every little detail of this place," he said, voice hushed. "The way the lights glimmered, the way your hair caught the wind. The proposal… the kiss…" He trailed off, letting the memory linger in the air.
Seraphina felt the chills again, remembering that night. The rooftop had been decorated with tiny fairy lights he had strung carefully, glowing softly, casting warmth over them. The city hummed far below, distant and unaware. Thaddeus had taken her hands, his nervousness evident, and asked her, in that tender, quivering voice, if she'd be his girlfriend. She remembered the thrill, the laugh that escaped her, the rapid beating of her heart as she whispered yes. And then, the kiss—a perfect, lingering press of lips, gentle yet claiming, with the city lights framing them as if the world itself had paused for them. It had felt eternal, timeless. That memory settled into her chest, warmth mingling with the ache.
Eventually, they left, returning to the car in a quieter, reflective mood. The drive was punctuated with the music they had compiled together months ago—a playlist that had once been "their songs." The rhythm, familiar and comforting, played as they nodded to the beat, laughing when they remembered lyrics they had argued over or tried to sing in unison, voices cracking.
When they arrived at her hostel, the atmosphere shifted to playful banter.
"You really think anyone can walk past without noticing your dramatic playlist?" she teased, smirking.
"It's a masterpiece," he countered, mock indignation in his tone. "You only pretend to hate it because you know I'm right."
She rolled her eyes, a smile tugging at her lips. "Right, the guy who cried during three of these songs."
"That was… artistic emotion!" he insisted.
They laughed, shoulders brushing, hearts light despite the lingering complexity between them.
Finally, she unlocked her door, and they paused. Thaddeus hesitated, then stepped closer, just a little, enough that their hands brushed. "Goodnight," he said softly, eyes locked on hers.
"Goodnight," she replied, cheeks warm, heart fluttering, and then stepped inside.
The door closed behind her with a soft click, leaving the night to hold the memory of them—two people, just for a few hours, free from drama, enjoying what had once been perfect.