That afternoon, Amsterdam looked far too calm for something that was about to change.
Blair walked alone from campus, her steps slow, her mind crowded with the conversations of the past few days.
She and Pablo were standing in a strange space.
Not close, not distant.
A distance agreed upon without ever being spoken.
And somehow, that was what made Blair think about everything even more.
She stopped in front of Brunne’s bookstore and pushed the door open, the familiar chime ringing softly.
The scent of old paper and wood welcomed her as it always did.
Safe.
Consistent.
A place that asked for nothing except presence.
“Brunne,” Blair called as she set her bag down.
“In the back,” came the reply.
Blair began tidying the front shelves, her hands moving automatically, until she became aware of someone standing in the corner of the room.
A man, his back to the door, reading a book with a dark cover.
His clothes were neat.
His posture calm.
Too calm for a casual visitor.
He did not turn around right away.
Blair didn’t know why her chest tightened.
Then the man spoke.
“This place still smells the same.”
The sound of his voice made time fold in on itself.
Blair froze.
Slowly, the man turned.
Carlo.
His face looked older than the last time Blair remembered.
His jaw sharper.
His hair shorter.
But his eyes were the same.
The eyes of someone who had always seen Blair deeper than she ever allowed.
“You,” Blair said quietly.
Carlo smiled faintly.
Not a forced smile.
More like someone who had never fully left.
“Hi, Blair.”
Brunne appeared from behind the shelves and stopped when he saw Carlo.
“You know each other?” he asked, his tone neutral but alert.
“Yes,” Carlo answered first.
“We used to.”
Blair nodded, but said nothing more.
The pause between them was heavy.
“I didn’t know you worked here,” Carlo continued, as if commenting on the weather.
“I moved here a year ago.
For work.”
Carlo’s voice was steady.
Too steady.
Brunne read the situation quickly.
“I’ll be in the back,” he said, then disappeared without waiting for a response.
They were alone.
“How have you been?” Carlo asked.
Blair let out a short laugh, without humor.
“You always start with that.”
“Because it matters.”
“To you,” Blair replied.
Carlo nodded.
“You look well.”
“I am well.”
Carlo studied her for a long moment.
“On the outside.”
The comment made Blair straighten her back.
“Why are you here, Carlo?”
He exhaled softly.
“I just wanted to see you.”
“After how many years?”
“After I was brave enough.”
Blair fell silent.
She wanted to be angry.
Instead, what surfaced was distance.
Like talking to a chapter of her life she had carefully packed away.
“You’re still the same,” Carlo said.
“Still looking strong.
Still thinking you can handle everything on your own.”
Blair met his gaze sharply.
“You don’t get to analyze me anymore.”
“I’m not asking to,” Carlo said calmly.
“I’m just saying I know you.”
That was what made him dangerous.
Carlo never forced his way in.
He always entered through the cracks.
The door opened.
The bell rang.
Pablo stepped inside, his jacket damp from the drizzle.
He stopped when he took in the scene.
Blair stood facing a man who was clearly not a stranger.
The distance between them wasn’t close, but the tension was unmistakable.
“Sorry,” Pablo said hesitantly.
“Am I interrupting?”
Blair turned.
“No.”
Carlo turned toward Pablo, studying him with undisguised interest.
“And you are…?” Carlo asked.
“Pablo,” he replied.
“Blair’s friend.”
Carlo nodded and shook Pablo’s hand.
“Carlo.”
No one spoke after that.
But something was being measured.
Quietly.
“You come here often?” Carlo asked Pablo.
“Fairly often,” Pablo answered shortly.
Carlo smiled faintly, then looked back at Blair.
“You seem to have a new life.”
Blair didn’t deny it.
“I do.”
Carlo nodded, as if accepting a truth he didn’t like.
“I’m glad.”
It was a lie.
And all three of them knew it.
“I should go,” Carlo said at last.
“I just wanted to say… I’m in this city.”
Blair didn’t ask why that needed to be said.
As Carlo reached the door, he paused.
“Oh, Blair,” he said without turning around.
“Do you still hate surprises?”
Blair swallowed.
“I hate people who show up without permission.”
Carlo smiled thinly.
“Then I haven’t changed.”
The door closed.
The bell rang softly.
Pablo stood still for several seconds.
“That was…” he said quietly.
“Who?”
Blair let out a long breath, only then realizing she had been holding it.
“The past,” she answered.
Pablo studied Blair’s face.
For the first time, he saw something there he didn’t recognize.
Not sadness.
Not anger.
But something unfinished.
“Are you okay?” Pablo asked.
Blair nodded.
Too quickly.
“Yeah.”
Pablo didn’t believe it, but he didn’t push.
That night, after Pablo left and the shop closed, Blair sat alone between the shelves.
Her hands trembled slightly.
She hated it.
She hated that one person could shift all her defenses so easily.
And in his small apartment, Pablo sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the empty wall.
For the first time, a realization tightened his chest.
There was a part of Blair he did not know.
And somewhere out there was someone who knew exactly how to get inside.