The café was small, tucked between two old bookstores on a quiet street corner. Its windows were fogged slightly from the warmth inside, and the scent of coffee and freshly baked pastries lingered in the air like a comforting embrace.
Celine stood outside for a long moment; her fingers wrapped tightly around the strap of her purse. The reflection staring back at her from the glass door looked calm, composed — but beneath that calm, her heart pounded wildly.
It had been years.
Years since she had last seen them, last laughed with them, last felt like she belonged to something outside her own loneliness.
With a deep breath, she pushed the door open.
A bell chimed softly above her, and the familiar murmur of conversation washed over her. Her gaze swept the room — and there they were.
Five faces she knew as well as her own.
Mara was the first to spot her. Her curly hair framed her face like a halo, and her eyes widened before soft tears welled up. "Celine!" she gasped, rising so quickly her chair scraped the floor.
Celine barely had time to smile before Mara crossed the space between them and pulled her into a hug — warm, fierce, and real.
For a moment, the world fell away.
Mara's scent — floral and faintly sweet — filled her senses. Her arms were small but steady, grounding Celine in the here and now.
"We never stopped caring about you," Mara whispered against her shoulder, voice trembling. "Not once."
Celine's throat tightened painfully. "I know," she whispered back. "And I'm so sorry it took me this long."
When they finally pulled apart, the others had gathered around the table — Jon, tall and steady as ever, his sharp eyes softening as he smiled; Elsie, leaning casually against her chair, that familiar smirk tempered by something gentler; Nora, the calm, fierce omega whose quiet strength had always anchored them all; and Caleb, shy and kind, whose easy grin felt like sunlight.
Jon's voice broke the silence first. "You're here," he said simply, like it was something miraculous.
Celine nodded, her lips curling into a small, uncertain smile. "I am."
He reached across the table, offering his hand. "Then that's all that matters."
She took it. His grip was steady, grounding her like a tether.
They sat together, and the awkwardness that hung in the air at first began to melt with the first shared laugh. It came unexpectedly — Elsie teasing Jon about his new haircut, Mara scolding her for being late even though she wasn't, Nora rolling her eyes fondly at them all.
Celine found herself laughing, too. The sound felt strange, like a forgotten song returning to her throat after years of silence.
The conversation flowed easily then, like an old river rediscovering its course. They talked about everything and nothing — work, relationships, the small chaos of everyday life. There were pauses filled with smiles instead of words, and looks that spoke louder than any apology could.
At one point, Mara reached across the table, her fingers brushing Celine's hand. "We always wanted the best for you," she said softly. "Even when you couldn't see it."
Celine's eyes burned. "I was scared," she admitted. "I pushed you all away because… I didn't know how to ask for help."
Jon's expression softened. "You don't need to apologize," he said. "You're family. Nothing's changed."
And in that moment, Celine believed him.
As the afternoon waned, golden sunlight spilled across the café floor, washing everything in warmth. Outside, the city carried on — cars passing, people laughing, the faint hum of life threading through the air. But for Celine, the world had narrowed to this table, these faces, these hearts that had never truly left her.
When they finally parted ways, promises filled the air — promises to meet again soon, to stay connected, to never let silence grow between them again.
Celine walked home with a lightness in her chest she hadn't felt in years.
The weeks that followed unfolded gently, like pages turning in a quiet book.
One by one, Celine reached out to others she had lost — friends she had argued with, people she had blocked out in moments of pain. Not everyone replied. Some needed time. Others welcomed her back without hesitation.
And with every message, every reunion, a piece of her came back.
Her days filled slowly with laughter again — morning calls, shared lunches, evening walks that stretched into long, easy conversations. The house that had once felt like a cold, beautiful cage began to feel lived in, warm.
Then came Nora's engagement.
The news spread through their group chat like wildfire, met with emojis, cheers, and teary exclamation points. The joy in Nora's voice when she called to tell her — "He proposed under the old sycamore; can you believe it?" — was so pure it made Celine's heart ache in the best way.
When Celine offered to host a small celebration at her home, the others agreed instantly.
On the evening of the party, her backyard was transformed. Fairy lights twinkled between the trees, casting soft halos of gold over the roses and climbing jasmine that lined the fence. The air was warm, filled with laughter, music, and the scent of blooming flowers.
Celine, dressed in a simple but elegant dress, moved gracefully among her guests. She carried trays of drinks, shared jokes, and accepted hugs with quiet warmth. Every so often, she'd stop and simply watch — her friends' faces illuminated by the glow of lanterns, their laughter mingling with the gentle hum of the night.
It was simple, imperfect, and beautiful.
Kael was there, too.
He stood a little apart, a glass of wine in hand, his presence steady but unobtrusive. He didn't speak much, didn't interrupt. He just watched her — a quiet observer in a scene he didn't quite belong to.
Their relationship had shifted since the early days. No longer hostile. No longer desperate. Just… still. A fragile peace built on mutual understanding and the quiet acknowledgment that love, perhaps, was not always the goal.
And for now, that was enough.
As the night deepened, laughter echoed through the garden. Music softened into low hums and whispered conversations. When the guests began to drift home, the air grew cooler, scented with jasmine and night dew.
Celine slipped away from the lingering crowd and stepped into the quiet part of the yard, beneath a trellis of white roses.
The moon hung full and luminous above her, bathing the garden in silver light. She tilted her head back, letting it wash over her face.
The laughter behind her faded into a pleasant hum, and for a moment, she closed her eyes.
The cool night air kissed her skin. The scent of flowers and earth surrounded her.
And in that stillness, she realized something simple but profound — she was no longer surviving.
She was living.
Her life wasn't perfect. It wasn't easy. But it was hers.
When she opened her eyes again, the world looked softer. Brighter.
A gentle smile curved her lips as she whispered into the quiet, "Thank you."
To her friends. To herself. To the universe that had given her a second chance.
For the first time in a long time, Celine felt whole.