She traced the rim of her coffee cup, watching rain streak the glass like tears. The café was quiet, filled with the soft hum of conversation and the clink of porcelain. He sat across from her, eyes on the window, lost in thought. They hadn’t spoken in minutes, but the silence wasn’t empty — it was heavy, full of things unsaid. Her heart ached with the weight of memory, of moments that used to be warm. She wanted to reach for him, but her fingers stayed curled around the cup.