There are moments that don't feel like time ever moved. There are moments that still taste the same, smell the same, sound the same,ike they've been waiting for you to come back, pretending they didn't change.
That was what it felt like to be with Eli again.
A week into the wedding preparations, we'd gotten used to avoiding the things that mattered — and each other. Every conversation stayed perfectly polite, like we were two strangers pretending to be okay.
Until today.
"Lia, I need your input on the seating chart," he said, knocking softly on the doorframe of the small office the coordinator lent us for planning.
I looked up from my laptop. "You're early."
"You're late."
Our eyes met, and for a second, it felt like we were slipping into the old rhythm again.
He walked in, holding a folder. "So, the best man and maid of honor are sitting together. Are you fine with that?"
I glanced at the list. "They'll survive."
"Good. Because I'm not redoing that whole chart."
There was a flicker of humor in his eyes, it made my chest ache. He sat across from me. He leaned back in his chair like he owned the space, like he used to.
"Do you ever miss it?" he asked suddenly.
I froze. "Miss what?"
"Us. The way we used to be before everything turned into…" He trailed off, gesturing vaguely between us.
"This."
I swallowed. "Eli—"
"You don't have to answer." His voice softened, but his gaze stayed sharp. "I already know."
He looked away first.
The silence stretched, long enough for the hum of the air conditioner to sound louder than it should. I hated how easily he could still pull memories out of me, how every small thing reminded me of what we used to be.
We used to be unstoppable.
He was my brother's best friend, but he became my best secret.
We'd meet at the old basketball court near our subdivision at night. He'd bring soda, I'd bring the cheap cookies from my mom's kitchen. He'd tell me about his dreams, how he wanted to start his own business and to build something that actually mattered.
I'd tell him about mine, too. That I just wanted to do fashion designing, to leave this small town and do something more.
"You will," he'd said once, tracing circles on my palm. "You'll leave. And when you do, don't look back."
"Why not?"
"Because if you do," he said. His eyes are dark and honest, "you'll see me still standing here."
"Lia?" His voice broke through the memory.
I blinked. "What?"
"You spaced out again."
"I'm just thinking."
He looked at me for a long moment. "About us?"
"No. About the flower arrangements."
He smiled a small, disbelieving one. "You were never a good liar."
The words stung. Maybe because he used to say them with affection but now, they sounded like a reminder.
Later that afternoon, we drove to the vineyard where the wedding would be held. It was outside town, about an hour away, and the coordinator had asked us to check the lighting for the ceremony photos.
I'd hoped we'd take separate cars, but of course, fate didn't care much for comfort.
"You're not seriously planning to ignore me for an hour, right?" Eli said as he started the engine.
"I can try."
He laughed softly. "Still sharp."
I looked out the window, pretending the passing fields were more interesting than the man I once loved sitting beside me.
Halfway through the drive, the clouds started to gather soft gray, almost like the color of his eyes.
He lowered the volume of the music, and for a while, the silence wasn't so unbearable.
Until he spoke again.
"Your brother asked me last night if I'm okay with this arrangement."
I turned. "This arrangement?"
"Us, working together again. He said he didn't want things to be… awkward."
"And what did you say?"
He shrugged. "That I'm fine. That I've moved on."
"Good."
He glanced at me. "You sound relieved."
"I am."
"Liar."
This time, the word came out softly. I didn't answer. Because maybe he was right.
When we arrived at the vineyard, the coordinator met us with a camera crew and a long list of things to inspect. Eli walked ahead, talking logistics, while I lingered near the rose bushes at the edge of the field.
It smelled like summer.
"Don't wander too far," Eli said, coming up behind me. "You'll get lost."
"I know my way around."
He smiled faintly. "You always did."
We stood there for a while, not saying anything. Just two people pretending the ghosts between them didn't exist. And then he quietly said it, almost like a thought slipping out.
"I waited for you, you know."
My breath caught.
"For months, after you left. I thought you'd come back, or at least tell me why." I could hear the edges cracking on his voice "But you didn't."
I looked away. My heart was pounding heavily. "It wouldn't have changed anything."
"It would've changed everything."
There was the first truth, breaking through the cracks of all the silence.
I wanted to tell him the rest, that leaving wasn't about falling out of love, that it was about saving him from something he didn't even know. But the words stayed buried, heavy in my throat.
Instead, I said, "We were young. It wouldn't have worked."
"Don't," he whispered. "Don't rewrite it just because it hurts now."
I met his eyes. "It's not rewriting, Eli. It's surviving."
He stepped closer, the air tightened between us. "And do you feel like you survived?"
I couldn't answer.
Because the truth was, I hadn't. Not really.
And then my phone buzzed. A message from Daniel.
"Dinner tonight. Be home early. Don't be late."
The possessiveness in his words made my chest tighten. He didn't say it like he cared, he said it like he owned me.
I set the phone aside, pretending it didn't matter, but the weight of it pressed down, reminding me that while my heart lingered in the past with Eli, my life with Daniel was very much real, very much suffocating.
That night, I dreamt of the old basketball court again. But this time, he wasn't waiting.
And when I woke up, another message from Eli blinked on my screen
"We still need to choose the wedding vows format. But I think we both know some promises never last."