The first time Leo noticed Elara, she was yelling at a potted fern.

For two months, they lived in the wreckage of their second storyline: The One Who Stayed and The One Who Left . He threw himself into the bridge. She threw herself into saving her shop. They were both miserable, but they were miserably right —or so they told themselves.

He walked inside. Elara was at the counter, inventorying bags of soil. She looked up. Her hair was shorter. There were new lines around her eyes. She didn’t smile.

Elara set down the soil. She walked around the counter, stopped a foot away from him. “You’re not terrible at people,” she said quietly. “You’re terrible at letting people be terrible with you.”

“I can’t promise I won’t disappear into my work again,” he said.