"I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be," she replied, her eyes searching his.
"You're late," Elias said, his voice a little rougher than he intended. Maybe This Time - Michael Martin Murphey (Lyrics) рџЋµ
As the cafe's radio began to play a soft, acoustic melody, Elias looked at their hands on the table, inches apart. The fear of another "goodbye" was there, but it was smaller than the ache of the last decade. He realized that they weren't the same people who had walked away; they were older, scarred, and finally wise enough to know what a second chance looked like. "I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be," she
He reached out, his fingers brushing hers. "We missed it the first time, didn't we?" " she replied
Clara smiled, a small, fragile thing. "Maybe we just weren't ready then."
