Fiction! I know it hurts when you hear my name (Part 1)

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the scent of lilies, an unwelcome combination that sent a pang through Amelia's heart. Every Wednesday, these were the scents that greeted her at the quaint bookstore she frequented. Every Wednesday, for the past year, she'd steal an hour amidst towering shelves, seeking solace in the worn pages and the distant clatter of turning keys – a lullaby compared to the storm her name evoked in a certain someone.

Ethan. The name hung heavy in the air, unspoken yet omnipresent. He was the owner, his gentle smile and sun-kissed hair a distant memory tainted by a messy heartbreak. Their love story, once vibrant and full of whispered promises, had crumbled a year ago, leaving behind a wreckage of unspoken words and a gaping hole in Amelia's life.

Today, however, was different. Today, a worn leather satchel adorned with a vintage compass sat on the counter. It was Ethan's, a relic from a shared dream of traveling the world together, a dream that had died with their relationship. Panic clawed at Amelia's throat. Was he leaving? The thought was unbearable.

Mustering her courage, she approached the counter, the bell above the door announcing her arrival. A young woman with bright, curious eyes looked up. "Hi, welcome! Can I help you find anything?"
"Actually," Amelia stammered, "is Ethan here?"
A flicker of surprise crossed the woman's face. "Ethan? I don't think so. He hasn't been in for a while."

The world seemed to tilt on its axis. Ethan, gone? The confusion must have shown on Amelia's face because the woman elaborated. "He had to take a sudden leave a few weeks ago. Family emergency, you know? Didn't say when he'd be back."

Amelia felt a surge of conflicting emotions – relief that he wasn't leaving permanently, but a gnawing worry about the reason for his absence. Their last conversation, a bitter exchange filled with accusations, echoed in her mind. Had he ever forgiven her?

Days turned into weeks, and the bookstore became a constant reminder of Ethan's absence. Amelia found herself drawn to the satchel, a physical manifestation of a past she yearned for. Unable to resist, she peeked inside one day. Nestled amongst maps and travel brochures was a worn copy of "Wuthering Heights," their favorite book. A handwritten note on the flyleaf sent a tremor through her:

"To Amelia, the Cathy to my Heathcliff. Even if our story takes a different turn, you'll always hold a special place in my heart. – Ethan"
Tears welled up in Amelia's eyes. His words, though cryptic, hinted at lingering affection. Hope, a fragile spark, flickered within her.

One rainy afternoon, a familiar figure hurried through the door, hair plastered to his forehead, eyes flustered. It was Ethan. He looked up, startled, their eyes meeting for the first time in a year. The air crackled with unspoken emotions.
"Amelia," he breathed, his voice hoarse.
"Ethan," she replied, the simple word heavy with unspoken longing.

An awkward silence ensued, broken only by the rain drumming on the roof. Finally, Ethan gestured towards a corner table. "Can we talk?"
Amelia nodded, her heart pounding against her ribs. They sat, a world of unspoken words hanging between them. Ethan explained the family emergency – his grandfather's deteriorating health. He hadn't had the heart to reach out, fearing it would only dredge up painful memories.

As he spoke, Amelia realized she, too, had been a prisoner of her pride. The silence, she understood, had been deafening for both of them. When he finished, a heavy silence descended.
"I miss you, Amelia," Ethan confessed, his voice barely a whisper.
The dam broke. Tears streamed down Amelia's face. "I miss you too, Ethan. More than words can say."

For the next hour, they talked – not about blame, but about the love that lingered, about the dreams that had shattered. They spoke of regrets and unspoken truths, their voices thick with raw emotions.

As the rain subsided, casting a golden glow through the window, Ethan reached out and took Amelia's hand. "Can we try again?" he asked, his eyes searching hers.

Amelia looked at him, seeing not just the Ethan of the past, but the man he'd become. "I… I don't know," she admitted, her voice trembling. "There's so much to work through."
Ethan squeezed her hand gently. "I know. But if you're willing to give us another chance, I promise we'll face it together. One step at a time."
Amelia looked into his eyes, a well of vulnerability and hope.