Elena hadn't expected to see Ben again. He was an old friend from high school - someone who had always lingered in the background of her memories like a melody she'd half forgotten. They ran into each other at a small caf� near her aunt's house, and just like that, the past caught up.

Ben was warm and open, the kind of person who made you feel steady without trying. Over the next few days, they met up for hikes, long walks through Santa Fe's art district, and late dinners beneath string lights and desert stars.

He made her laugh. He didn't ask about Seattle. And when he touched her hand across the table one night, her heart didn't jump - it sighed.

For a moment, she let herself wonder: what if this could be enough?

They kissed. Soft. Familiar. It didn't shake her bones or set fire to her blood - but it was kind. Safe. And for that one night, she let herself feel something that wasn't chaos.

But when she lay in bed afterward, staring at the ceiling, it wasn't Ben she saw when she closed her eyes.

It was Daniel.

Still Daniel.

Always Daniel.