Sunlight filtered through the enormous oak trees that peppered the green, dappling the spotty grass. Summer had baked the ground in places, and the green hadn't quite recovered. In another week or two, the leaves would turn brown and fall—Paris was stunning under autumn colors—but for now, the mossy green was what I liked best.

Bright and breezy. Fresh.

The book slash coffee shop was a perfect representation of a Parisian café. Moss and flowers vined around the entrance in a slight arc, giving the place a charming vintage feel. A strange occurrence in Paris where the buildings were all stone and iron, with small glimpses of trees and parks between them.

I slipped into the shop, shouting a hello at Danial who waved from across the counter. Grabbing my usual order, my footsteps carried me towards the mountain of books placed near the back. Dusty and ignored, I had a strange fondness for the pile that came in every Saturday. Danial had often remarked that I tried to find the best ones before they were shelved, giving me an edge over the other customers that came into the shop.

"Hey," My heart thumped in my chest as I clutched the binding tightly. I knew the deep baritone immediately. No matter how hard I'd tried, I could never be a stranger to that tone.

Reluctantly, I placed the dusty tome back on the dark green surface and turned around.

He was the same . . . and yet so different. His hair was the same rich brown, but shorter than it had been in medical school, the soft curls sculpted into something respectable and serious. His face too had lost a softness; his cheeks and jaw were more angular, his face thinner, as if he'd taken up running or boxing.

"Fancy seeing you here," His hands shifted in his pockets, the casual stance stabbing me in the heart.

We were beyond casual conversations now.

"Came here for a work trip, decided to check out the locale," I nodded, looking at the veins of pale sunlight filtering into the room, stepping away from the pile. "You live around here?" I raised an eyebrow and he looked down, his cheeks turning a light pink. That was a first. "That was bad, sorry, I'll start again."

"Please."

"I thought I'd drop in for a visit."

"Did Francois tell you I was here?"

"He might have mentioned it," I almost rolled my eyes at that. Almost. My poor neighbor was a hopeless romantic. Being born and raised in Paris, this particular trait was a manufacturing flaw.

"Well, it was nice meeting you Faizan, I'll head out now."

He hurried after me, bumping into the furniture in his haste. "How's the book coming along?"

"Since when have you been interested in what I did?"

He leaped forward, grabbing for my arm and I twisted away. "Shazi..."

"Why are you here?"

"I wanted to see you."

"And?"

"It's been six years Shazi. Can't you at least hear me out?"

"Six years. In which there has been no contact from you. In which you've been married I might add."

"We..."

"I don't want to hear it. Goodbye."

My footsteps were barely heard as I exited the shop carrying my fragile heart, leaving him staring behind me. So much for a bright and breezy afternoon.

"He came to the shop?" I nodded, dabbing the corner of my eye, trying not to sniff. "How'd he look?" I glared at the screen in front of me.

"Like he is."

"So better than he was?"

"I don't know, I walked away before I could get a good look," Lie. He looked better than before. I carefully measured and added the butter into the flour, trying to avoid her gaze.

"Do you regret it?"

"No," I said, whipping the mixture forcefully. Ja gave me a strange look. "Yes," I answered after a small pause.

Ja sighed. "I feel like as your sister it's my duty to tell you that he should go to hell and that you've done the right thing," Ignoring the mixture, I slumped back on the couch. It was close to dinner time anyway. I could bake tomorrow. "But as your friend, how long will this go on Shazi?"

"How long will what go on?"

"You. Him. This!"

"I don't get it," she gave me an incredulous look.

"He's always affected you this way. He comes into your life and you go crazy. Tell me you haven't been waiting for a message from him? Or praying for a sign?"

"I-"

"Exactly. He calls and you run to him. It's always been this way. Isn't he married?"

Placing the cushion on my face, I groaned. "Yup."

"And he came to see you?"

"That's what he said."

"I don't trust him. He's always made you hang around..."

"Correction, he used to have me around. That was way back when."

"Yes, way back when was just six years ago. You've never gotten over him. Despite you actually not going out with him or telling him about your feelings."

"Are you here to help me or to dig up past wounds?" Peeking at her from behind my cream cushion, I gave her a stern look.

"I'm helping you by reminding you of what he's done."

"I remember."

"Good. Tell him. That's the only way to get him out of your system."

If only it was that easy.

I checked my reflection in the tarnished antique mirror, hunched over a laptop, with a stack of books and notes scattered on the table around me. I looked at ease. Causal. So what if I'd changed my outfit? Twice. And gnawed off my lipstick and had to reapply. I had known that if I stayed home and thought about it any more, I'd end up over thinking and hiding.

I wasn't a coward. This was my space. I was not going to run away. Not this time.

Muttering to myself, I readjusted the frames on my face and unknotted the messy bun I'd managed to wrangle my hair in. My locks cascaded down my shoulders and I sighed.

That felt so much better. More natural.

Massaging my temples, I looked up to see someone shuffling around from the corner of my eye. I glanced at the mirror and could just make out the strong jaw and the serious set to a male mouth.

My heart leaped up and then crashed back to its normal place. That wasn't him. Faizan wouldn't shuffle around. That just wasn't him. Disappointed, I considered turning around and restarting my work but curiosity got the better of me.

Twisting slightly, I looked up and almost slipped out of my chair.

He was gorgeous.

The boy, no man, was gorgeous in all the ways that made girls do stupid things. Dark hair mussed by frustrated or nervous hands and warm chocolate eyes that seemed to pierce me. Aware that he was staring, the guy mustered a smile and crossed over, setting his cup of coffee in the few inches of free space beside the notes and the empty cup already there.

He was even more attractive up close. "Bonjour."

"Bonjour," I replied carefully, my stomach aflutter with butterflies.

"Je m'appelle Waleed," his voice, damn. His voice was what drove women to wax poetically. I blinked and collected my thoughts, making sure to keep my face neutral.

"Salut Waleed."

"I'm sorry, this will sound incredibly rude, but I heard you conversing in Urdu. Both my French and my Urdu are equally atrocious, so pardon me for slipping into English."

I looked down to conceal my amusement. "That's quite alright."

"You must be wondering why a stranger is rambling on about his Urdu and French skills."

"I'm slightly concerned, yes."

"I'm new here and have gotten lost, so I decided to drop in, see the area etcetera," I pressed my lips together. "And then I saw you and heard you speak," more flutters.

Damn it. I should be beyond this now. I was an adult woman!

"And?"

"And I realized I wanted coffee," he finished, his eyes flickering with amusement. Mine narrowed and I leaned back in my chair.

"You wanted coffee?"

He clicked his fingers together, ignoring my disbelief. "Exactly."

I blew a puff of air. "I'm actually waiting for someone..."

"Then I'll wait with you," he said, loosening his tie and popping the top buttons of his white, vigorously ironed shirt, carefully rolling up his sleeves. He placed hung his suit jacket behind him and relaxed, his arms placed in front of him on the table.

"Please make yourself comfortable."

"Thank you, I will."

I could practically hear Ja shrieking expletives in my head.

He gestured towards my empty cup. "What were you drinking?"

"An espresso. They serve the very best here,"

"I can see that," I stared at him, my mouth open in amazement. What was this guy? I moved my head to look around the coffee shop, collecting myself.

"Alright, I have to ask, don't you have some place to be?" I asked, closing the book I was reading with a snap.

"Not really," He said, his lips against the cup.

"So you're going to sit here, talking to a stranger?"

"You're sitting here, talking to a stranger."

"I told you, I'm..."

"Waiting for someone, yes. However, if you want me to leave, I'd do so," I rocked back, my arms still folded in front of me.

"Really?"

He held up his finger. "One word," I opened my mouth and he gave me an innocent look.

Despite my better judgement, I smiled. It's not like I had anything better to do. "Only for a few minutes."

His eyes twinkled but he bowed his head graciously, taking a long sip of his coffee. "This is really good."

I nodded, my eyes narrowed on him. He didn't look like a businessman. He was all lean, toned muscle. I shook my head, trying to ignore those intruding thoughts. It shouldn't matter what he looked like.

He was a stranger. I didn't know him.

"If you don't mind me asking, what are you working on?"

"It's..." why should I tell him?

He picked up on my hesitation and raised his palms up in a palacting gesture. "You can tell me. It's better to tell a stranger isn't it?"

"Since I'll never see you again?"

"Who said you'll never see me again?"

"Aren't you a bit presumptuous?"

"Aren't you?"

On second thought, he was extremely annoying. "Answering a question with a question, how refreshing."

"Isn't it?" Ignoring him, I slid my papers away from his prying gaze. "To answer your question, there is a chance you'll see me again. I've bought a place two avenues from here." 

"Congratulations," He smiled, just a brief quirk of his lips, but carried on despite the bite in my tone.

"I was looking at some books that I wanted in my collection. I was told they've got some treasures here."

So he was definitely settling in. Presuming he was telling the truth. "That's true, although, finding it takes time. You have to have a lot of patience to go digging around to find the one."

"Isn't that true for anything in life?," I warmed up under his gaze. "Since I've divulged my secret, now will you show me what you're working on?"

"How do I know you're telling the truth?"

"Don't I look trustworthy?" I shook my head. He chuckled. "Fair enough, how about Boy Scouts honour? Would you trust that?"

"You were a Boy Scout?" I found myself returning his smile, stupidly and maniacally, my cheeks burning hot.

"Tsk tsk, you first!"

"It's nothing..."

"It doesn't seem like nothing."

"Are you normally this inquisitive?"

"Only regarding something special..." finally, a question not answered with another question.

Wait, what had he just said?

"Uh, Shazi?" Faizan stood near the staircase, his eyes flicking back and forth between us. I returned back to Earth and cleared my throat. Waleed looked at me, his eyebrow raised and his mouth turning into a thin line. Finally he stood up, his demeanour friendly, offering to shake Faizan's hand.

"Hi, I'm Waleed."

"Faizan."

"Hi," I muttered, looking at the two of them shake hands. Faizan did not seem the least bit perturbed by Waleed's presence.

"I'll let you be then. Thanks for the coffee and conversation," Waleed muttered and moved away, sitting at another table, still in my line of sight.

"Thank you for meeting me," I nodded, chewing on my bottom lip, distracted by the man behind him. My heart rate kicked up as I watched him drink his coffee.

Why was he sitting directly in my line of sight?

Catching him glancing my way, I raised my eyebrows and he made a goofy face. One corner of my mouth twitched before I quickly shifted my attention back to Faizan. "I..."

"No, let me say this, I am extremely sorry for all the pain I have caused you. Believe me, I was a jerk, a complete asshole..."

"Get to the point Waleed," exasperation was making me irritable.

"Waleed?"

"Sorry, I just..." Waleed's long, slim fingers tapped against his mug, his eyes focused on mine and I, once again, forcefully shifted my gaze to Faizan's face. "Let's take a walk?" 

And get away from a certain annoying distraction.

Faizan nodded, throwing an openly curious look my way. I ignored the look, gathering all of my things and stepping out without a backward glance.

The crisp chilly autumn air had just started to bleed into the late summer breeze. I rubbed my hands together, clutching my light coat around me, regretting my decision to not have worn something warmer.

Well, I hadn't planned on taking a walk.

If it wasn't for that man back in the coffee shop, I would have been having this conversation in a comfy armchair in a very intimate setting.

"I miss you Shazi."

I exhaled harshly. "You what?"

"I miss you. I miss my friend. I miss talking to you."

"You miss talking to me or you miss having someone at your beck and call?"

"I never had..."

"Yes, you never said that. You never insinuated that we were more than that. But I'm sorry Faizan, I can't do this. I can not be your emotional support and have you disappear, months or years on end."

"You stopped replying to me!"

"Because you never wanted to talk!"

"I... Shazi, we were kids. Nineteen is a stupid age. You know that as well as I do."

"And your wife? What about her?"

"We separated, three months ago."

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