Two months had passed since I arrived in this small town in the south of France.The air here was thick with the scent of damp grass and wildflowers. The sun was warm on my skin, and life moved at a slow, unhurried pace.Everything about this place felt like the opposite of the world I had left behind—the chaos, the noise, the suffocating weight of my old life.I had rented a tiny storefront on a quiet street and opened a small coffee shop.Every morning, I roasted my own beans and practiced my latte art. I greeted customers with a smile and wiped down tables when the rush died down.I was busy, but for the first time in years, my heart felt calm. Peaceful.I rarely thought about Julian anymore.Sometimes, in the middle of the night, the old memories would creep back in like rising tide—cold, sharp, and suffocating. But I had learned to take a deep breath and push them away before they could drown me. I was healing. Slowly, but surely.One evening, I was about to lock up for the night
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