Victor never imagined that a simple dinner conversation would become a genuine torment.
He sank back in his chair, content with the evening, the food, while the air was scented with roasted vegetables and spiced meatEmily, as always, cooked with meticulous care. Then she brewed a perfect cup of coffee.
The little café on the university corner, he began pensively, still serves those very croissants.
Emily lifted her eyes from the plate.
What café? she asked.
Oh right, youve never been there, Victor ran a hand over his chin as if recalling something. Lucy, a fellow student, and I used to linger there after lectures, especially when it rainedcozy, and the coffee is superb.
Her spoon stopped halfway to her mouth.
She didnt know Lucy. She had never seen her face or heard her laugh. Yet in Emilys mind a tiny café with fogged windows appeared: two students sharing croissants while rain streamed down the glass. She could even picture Lucy breaking off a piece of pastry and handing it to Victora gesture intimate, personal.
Just friendly drinks, Victor added, but his words already dissolved in Emilys imagination.
The café now existed in her consciousness as vividly as if she had spent hundreds of evenings there. She could smell the blend of fresh bake and bitter coffee. She heard the creak of the door as it opened. She saw old photographs in wooden frames on the walls.
And the most unsettling thingshe knew Lucy. The very presence of the girl in Victors past had become suddenly tangible, alive. The one with whom he had shared not only croissants but slices of his life, now forever lodged in that corner café.
Emily suddenly realized a grim truth: she remembered Lucy better than many acquaintances she actually knew. She remembered things she had never seen.
That is how jealousy worksit paints pictures where there were only hints, and fills voids with meaning.
Emily inhaled sharply and set her spoon down.
You know, her voice was oddly calm, I suddenly feel like trying those famous croissants.
Victor raised his eyebrows in surprise.
Now?
Yes, right now.
He wanted to protest, but she was already rising from the table and heading toward the hall. Within five minutes they were in a car, driving through the nightlit city. Emily stared out the window, while Victor stole glances at her clenched fists.
The café turned out to be a cramped little place with a faded sign. Inside it reeked of coffee and fresh pastry.
Heres the exact table, Victor pointed to a corner seat.
Emily traced a finger slowly along the tabletopthere really was a tiny scratch, just as she had imagined.
When the waiter placed the croissants on the plate, she lifted one and split it neatly in half.
Is that how she gave them to you? she asked, offering Victor the half.
He froze. Something dangerous flickered in her eyes.
Emily
No, wait, she leaned closer, I need to understand. Did she look at you like that? Smile like that?
Victor suddenly sensed he stood on the edge of an abyss. Before him was not merely jealousyit was something larger. Emily didnt just want to know about Lucyshe wanted to become her.
And the most frightening parthe did not want her to become her.
Victor slowly took the croissant half from her hand. A tense silence hung in the air, broken only by the soft clink of dishes from the far side.
Youre not her, he finally said firmly, placing the pastry back on the plate. And I dont need you to be.
Emily clenched her napkin nervously.
But you recall those moments so tenderly
Im recalling youth, Emily. The first semester, the smell of books in the library, the feeling that life stretches ahead. He gently took her hand. Lucy is a part of those memories, but no more than an old textbook or a bench in the courtyard.
Outside the rain began to drizzle, just as in his story. Drops pattered on the window, creating a cozy ambience.
You know why that café came to mind today? Victor turned her face toward him. Because you brew coffee the same wayjust a pinch of salt to highlight the bitterness. You dont replace my memoriesyou deepen them.
Emily felt the tension in her throat melt away. She looked at their reflection in the cafés mirrored walltwo adult silhouettes amidst nostalgic shadows of the past.
Shall we order more coffee? Victor suggested. And try to craft our own memory of this place.
When the waiter returned, they ordered not croissants but a shared apple crumble. In that moment Emily realized the café now belonged to her as well.
When they left, the rain had ceased. The night air was fresh and clear, and the pavement reflected the golden glow of street lamps. Emily stopped, turned to Victor.
Do you know what I just realised? her voice regained its lightness. I dont need to erase your past. Its exactly what led you to me.
Victor smiled and pulled her close.
And you know what Ive learned? he said. Youre the only person I want to share not just croissants but a whole life with. Even the simplest moments with you become extraordinary.
Emily laughed, and the laugh held no trace of earlier anxiety.
Then lets promise each other one thing, she said seriously. Lets not fear our old stories. Instead, lets create new onesones well someday recall with a warm smile.
They walked to the car, hands clasped, and Emily no longer pictured Lucy. The past stayed locked inside that fadedsign café, while their present and future unfolded on this street beneath stars just beginning to pierce the scattered clouds.
Love isnt a contest with ghosts of the past. Its the art of forging fresh memories where old tales become merely a part of the larger journey. The most beautiful part is realising the best moments lie ahead, lived together without fear or doubt.
True happiness arrives when you neednt compare yourself to anyone. You are unique, and thats enough.
At the curb Emily suddenly lunged forward, splashing through puddles, and Victor, laughing, chased after her. They ran down the deserted night lane like two students tossed by the wind of years.
Catch me! she shouted over her shoulder, stars dancing in her eyes.
When he finally caught her around a corner, out of breath, Emily whispered, I have an idealets return to that café tomorrow. Arrive at dawn when its empty. Well leave something on their notice board
For example?
Victor + Emily. The start of a new tradition.
He chuckled and kissed her right there on the street, under the curious stare of a nocturnal cat perched on a windowsill.
Love means you dont erase his story; you add new chapters. The finest pages are the ones you write together, here and now.
