A LOVE FORGOTTEN

Chapter 53: Unspoken Ties

I grabbed my purse and checked myself in the mirror one last time, smoothing down the red sundress Sofia had picked for me. My heart was hammering against my ribs, my nerves tightly coiled. I ran my fingers through my hair, exhaling shakily.

I can do this.

It had been five years. Five long years since I had sat face to face with Ethan. Since I had looked into his eyes without the safety of distance, without the fear of being caught in the overwhelming emotions that still threatened to consume me.

But this time was different. He didn't remember me.

And yet, I still felt like I was standing on the edge of a precipice, one step away from falling all over again.

The drive to the coffee shop felt agonizingly slow. My fingers gripped the steering wheel tightly, my thoughts racing as fast as my heart. A hundred scenarios played out in my mind, each one more nerve-wracking than the last.

What if he senses something?

What if I can't hold myself together?

I forced myself to take slow, deep breaths, trying to steady the whirlwind inside me. I had made up my mind—I wasn't going to run anymore. I had spent too long avoiding him, shielding both myself and Alex from the truth.

Even if I had to take it one step at a time.

When I finally pulled into the parking lot, I sat there for a moment, gripping the steering wheel as I tried to slow my heartbeat. The coffee shop was a charming little place by the beach, golden sunlight spilling through its wide windows. The scent of freshly brewed coffee and warm pastries filled the air as I stepped inside, but I barely noticed.

Because there he was.

Sitting at a corner table, Ethan looked completely at ease, yet impossibly captivating. His white shirt was crisp against his tanned skin, the sleeves rolled up just enough to reveal the strong lines of his forearms. His dark jeans fit him perfectly, effortlessly stylish without trying too hard. But it wasn't just his appearance that made my breath catch.

It was him.

The way his fingers absentmindedly traced the rim of his coffee cup. The way his brows furrowed slightly as he stared at his phone, lost in thought. The quiet, undeniable presence he had always carried.

God, how I've missed him.

A lump formed in my throat, but I swallowed it down, forcing my legs to move forward before I lost my nerve.

The moment I stepped closer, as if sensing me, he lifted his gaze.

And just like that, time stopped.

His eyes—those same deep, mesmerizing eyes—locked onto mine, and something flashed in them. Recognition? A memory just out of reach?

His lips parted slightly, as though he wanted to say something but couldn't find the words.

I inhaled sharply, willing my emotions to stay in check, and gave him a small smile. "Hi."

Ethan blinked, as if pulling himself back to reality, and then a slow, warm smile spread across his face.

"Emily," he said, his voice low, rich, and laced with something I couldn't quite place. "You look amazing."

Heat rose to my cheeks despite my best efforts. He doesn't remember me, but his heart does, a traitorous voice whispered in my mind.

"Thanks," I murmured, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear as I slid into the seat across from him. "You look great too."

His gaze lingered on me for a moment before he cleared his throat and leaned back, a small smirk playing on his lips. "So, I take it this place is one of your favorites?"

I nodded, grateful for the casual shift in conversation. "It has the best coffee in town."

Ethan glanced around, taking in the cozy ambiance, the soft chatter of customers, and the faint sound of waves crashing against the shore. "I'm starting to like it here," he admitted, his fingers absently brushing against his coffee cup. "San Diego has a good vibe. I might stick around a little longer."

My heart stuttered. He's staying longer?

I forced a lighthearted smile. "Well, in that case, I'll have to give you the full tour."

His lips twitched upward. "I'd like that."

We talked easily, slipping into a rhythm that felt dangerously natural. It was surreal, sitting across from him like this, laughing over small anecdotes, sipping on coffee as though the past five years had never happened.

I had prepared myself for awkwardness. For pain.

But I hadn't prepared myself for this—

For the effortless way we clicked.

For the pull that hadn't faded.

For the way my heart still recognized him, even when his mind didn't.

And when he smiled at me—really smiled—something inside me cracked, just a little.

I wasn't sure how long we sat there, lost in conversation.