After the Storm

.

⸻

Chapter Two: After the Storm

The rain hadn’t stopped.

By the time Elena stepped out of the café, the sky had darkened into a heavy navy hue, the clouds pressing low over the harbor. She wrapped her coat tighter around herself and started walking—fast, head down, hoping the weather would erase everything that had just happened.

But Adrian’s voice wouldn’t stop echoing in her mind.

“I waited for you.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“Then why did you leave?”

She had no answer. Not a real one. Not one she could say out loud without everything breaking apart again.

Her boots splashed through puddles on the uneven sidewalks. She turned down the narrow path that led to her father’s house—the house she’d grown up in, the house she hadn’t stepped inside in almost five years.

The porch creaked under her weight.

She hesitated at the door. Not because of fear, but because of how still everything felt. Like time had stopped the moment she left. The key slid into the lock with a soft click, and the door groaned open.

Inside, the house smelled like dust and old wood. Faint traces of her father’s cologne still lingered—something musky and heavy and painfully familiar. His boots were still by the door. His coat still hung on the hook by the stairs. Everything was untouched. Frozen.

Elena dropped her bag in the hallway and walked straight to the living room. The recliner was still there. So was the photo of her mother on the mantel, smiling in that distant way she always had—like she was already halfway gone.

The silence was unbearable.

She sat on the edge of the couch, holding her breath.

It wasn’t just the house that haunted her. It was this town. This air. This feeling—the one she had carried with her for seven years, stuffed into the deepest part of her chest where it burned every time she remembered him.

Adrian Wolfe.

God. He had looked at her like nothing had changed. Like she hadn’t disappeared from his life without warning. But time had changed them both. She’d seen it in the way he hesitated, in the pain that flickered behind his eyes.

He had waited for her.

And she had never deserved that.

⸻

She couldn’t sleep that night.

The wind pushed against the windows like it wanted in, and the house creaked with every passing gust. Around 1 a.m., she got up, padded into the kitchen, and made tea she didn’t drink. Instead, she stood by the sink, staring into the darkness beyond the window. The harbor lights twinkled in the distance, familiar and cold.

Her phone buzzed.

A message. No name. Just a number.

I shouldn’t have walked away. But seeing you again… it hurts.

Meet me tomorrow at the harbor. 5 p.m. If you come, I’ll know.

Her breath caught. She didn’t have to guess who it was.

Adrian.

She didn’t respond.

But her hands were shaking.

⸻

The Next Day

Elena stood in front of the mirror in her childhood bedroom, staring at herself like she didn’t recognize the woman in the reflection. Her eyes were tired, her lips pressed in a thin line, her hair pulled back like she had something to prove.

She looked strong.

She didn’t feel it.

The harbor clock tower struck five.

She hadn’t planned to go.

But her feet betrayed her.

⸻

The harbor was nearly empty, the wind pushing waves against the docks. Boats swayed in their slips, ropes creaking under tension. Seagulls cried overhead, circling like memories.

Adrian stood at the end of the pier, back to her, hands tucked in his jacket pockets.

She walked up slowly, the sound of her boots echoing against the wood.

He turned as she approached.

Neither of them said anything for a moment. Just stood there, watching each other like the last seven years were suspended between them.

“You came,” he said finally.

“I didn’t think I would,” she admitted.

“But you did.”

“Yeah.”

Another silence. But this one was different. Warmer. Sharper.

Adrian took a step closer. “You said you never stopped loving me.”

“I meant it.”

He looked at her like the ground beneath him might give out. “Then why did you leave me?”

Elena’s eyes filled with tears, but she didn’t let them fall. “Because I loved you too much. Because I was afraid I’d stay… and lose myself in you. And I had to know who I was without you.”

He nodded slowly, as if the answer hurt more than he thought it would. “Did you find out?”

“I did,” she whispered. “And I still want you.”

He reached for her hand, tentative. “Then let’s stop running.”

She looked at their fingers, intertwined now, and everything inside her cracked open.

“I don’t know how,” she said.

“I’ll show you.”

And then, for the first time in seven years, he kissed her.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t patient. It was desperate. Hungry. Like the last kiss they ever shared had been a mistake they were finally fixing.

And the storm inside her—quiet until now—finally broke.

⸻