The first time Ryan saw Violet, she was sitting at the café by the window, tapping her fingers on a book she hadn’t turned a page of in ten minutes. He didn’t know why he kept looking, but something about her slowed time. Maybe it was the way she tucked her hair behind her ear absentmindedly or the slight furrow in her brows, as if she were deep in thought about something important.
He had walked into the café for coffee, but he walked out wondering if he’d ever see her again.
Fate seemed to be in his favor. A week later, she was there again, same table, same book, still unread. He finally gathered the courage to approach her.
“Is the book that bad, or is the coffee just that distracting?” he asked, a nervous smile playing on his lips.
She looked up, surprised at first, then amused. “Neither,” she replied. “Just a lot on my mind.”
And that was how it started.
Over the next few months, Ryan and Violet became something neither of them was expecting but both desperately needed. He showed up at the café every Thursday at 4 p.m., and somehow, she was always there. They talked about books, music, childhood memories, and places they wanted to visit. He learned that she had an irrational fear of birds but found thunderstorms soothing. She learned that he had a scar on his wrist from trying to impress his brother with a skateboard trick when he was twelve.
One rainy evening, as the café emptied out and they sat by the fogged-up window, Violet sighed. “I’m moving to Paris next month,” she said softly, her fingers tracing patterns on the table.
The words hit Ryan like a gust of cold wind. “Paris?” he repeated, trying to process it.
She nodded. “It’s always been the plan.”
He should have been happy for her. She had told him countless times how much she wanted to live there, yet all he could think about was how much he would miss her.
“Stay,” the word almost slipped past his lips, but he swallowed it. Instead, he smiled. “Paris is lucky to have you.”
She bit her lip, hesitating. “Come with me.”
Ryan blinked. “What?”
She let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “Never mind, it’s crazy.”
But he grabbed her hand before she could pull away. “Say it again.”
She met his eyes, something raw and vulnerable in hers. “Come with me.”
And just like that, every logical thought vanished. He had a job here, a life he had built, but the only thing he could think about was how empty his days would be without Thursday afternoons at the café, without her laugh, without the way she made him feel like the world was softer, warmer.
So, he made the easiest decision of his life.
“When do we leave?”
Story by: Lidiya B Varghese
