My blank love - My blank love Part-32

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Zoboria held the coffee cup in her hands,

its warmth wrapping around her fingers as if holding her still for a moment.

With the first sip, she felt —

that more than the snow outside or the laughter inside,

the real comfort was in this cup.

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Ehsan stood behind the counter,

his camera still hanging untouched from his shoulder,

yet his eyes seemed to already be taking a picture —

Zoboria’s tired little smile,

and the steam from the cup mingling with her day.

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For a few moments, neither of them spoke,

only the soft hum of the coffee machine,

and the light taps of snow against the glass could be heard.

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Suddenly, Ehsan raised the camera

and clicked without asking.

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> “Why?” Zoboria frowned.

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> “Because… some moments can’t be kept by asking,”

he said softly,

“and this one… you might need someday.”

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Zoboria didn’t reply,

just looked at the steam rising from the cup —

as if it carried stories of yesterday, today,

and maybe even tomorrow.

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Outside, the snow began to fall harder,

but inside…

it felt like another season had arrived,

one that bloomed only in the silences between two people.

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After finishing her coffee, Zoboria placed the cup on the counter,

but Ehsan’s gaze still rested on her.

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He was about to say something when the doorbell rang again.

With a gust of cold air, another man walked in —

tall, wearing a dark overcoat, and holding a small gift bag.

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Zoboria’s eyes froze for a moment when she saw him.

Ehsan noticed the change instantly.

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The man walked straight to the counter and spoke quietly —

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> “Zoboria… I know I’m here unannounced,

but I had to give you this.”

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He held the gift bag out to her.

She hesitated before taking it —

inside was an old photo frame,

holding a picture of the bakery from years ago…

and in that picture, standing beside her, was him.

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Ehsan’s grip tightened on his camera strap,

but he said nothing.

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The man stayed silent for a while,

then finally spoke —

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> “Maybe you thought I’d forgotten everything…

but I never forgot this moment.”

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Zoboria’s fingers lingered on the photo frame,

as if a season buried under snow had suddenly returned.

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Ehsan understood right then —

today, it wasn’t just the snow outside,

an old season had come back inside as well.

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Zoboria carefully placed the frame on the counter,

as if afraid the time within it might shatter again.

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Ehsan leaned against the counter’s edge,

his eyes no longer on his camera,

but on the man —

who now had his hands in his coat pockets,

just looking at her.

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> “It’s good to see you here…”

Zoboria said softly,

“But… why so suddenly?”

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He smiled faintly,

with a touch of weariness,

and said —

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> “Because I heard…

you’re happy now… with someone.”

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As he said this, his eyes briefly met Ehsan’s,

and in that glance was so much

that the room seemed to grow colder.

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Ehsan picked up a cloth and began wiping the cups near the machine —

his way of keeping quiet,

though his silence carried an edge.

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Trying to lighten the mood, Zoboria asked —

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> “Will you have some coffee?”

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> “No… I just wanted to give this.”

His voice was quiet now,

but carried that catch

that comes when words rise from the heart

but get stuck in the throat.

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Ehsan, still wiping, finally spoke —

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> “If it’s old pictures you want to see,

the snow outside the bakery makes for good ones too.”

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The man looked at him for a moment,

as if he understood it wasn’t just a remark,

but a message.

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Zoboria’s grip on the photo frame tightened unconsciously.

Outside, the snow was falling faster,

and inside…

a cold season was spreading between three people,

one no heater could warm.

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After a pause, Zoboria broke her own fear —

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> “You two don’t need to stare each other down.”

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Her voice was tired,

but both men’s eyes still locked on each other.

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The man — still nameless in the air —

slowly stepped forward,

touching the frame lightly with his fingers —

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> “Zoboria, do you remember…

what day this picture was taken?”

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Her eyes went to the photo —

it was the bakery’s opening day,

and she, with this man beside her,

was laughing outside in the snow.

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Without looking at the picture, Ehsan said —

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> “Probably the day you felt

someone would always be by your side.”

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The man smiled faintly,

but there was bitterness in it —

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> “And maybe the same day

I first learned how quickly ‘always’ can end.”

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Zoboria took a deep breath,

as if trying to draw in the cold between them.

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> “Before either of you say anything more,”

she said,

“This bakery isn’t just work for me… it’s my refuge.

Whatever you have to say,

this place can’t carry that weight.”

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Ehsan set the cup down slowly,

and for the first time, looked straight into the man’s eyes —

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> “Then let’s go outside.

Because some things must be said in the snow…

only that cold can hold them.”

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Zoboria looked at the clock,

then at both of them,

and her face held the mixed expression

of someone afraid to lose one person

and desperate to stop the other.

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Outside, the snow kept falling,

and perhaps,

in the next few minutes,

not only snow,

but something else would break.

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The cold wind outside wrapped around the three of them.

Snow fell so thick that the buildings across the street

looked drowned in fog.

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Zoboria stopped at the doorway,

but Ehsan and the man —

now stood face to face.

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Ehsan tightened his scarf —

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> “So tell me… why have you come back?”

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The man laughed, but it wasn’t a warm laugh —

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> “Maybe for the same reason

you’re standing here.”

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> “Zoboria?”

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Her name fell between them like snow,

making the air even colder.

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Ehsan’s lips tightened —

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> “I’m here to stand beside her,

not to be a shadow from her past.”

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The man leaned in slightly,

his voice carrying both pain and challenge —

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> “And I’m here to prove

that the past never truly ends.

You think she only has your ‘now,’

but in her heart…

my ‘before’ is still alive.”

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The snow’s dampness was freezing on Ehsan’s cheeks,

but the real cold had entered his eyes.

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> “If that were true,

she’d be with you… not here.”

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From the doorway, Zoboria spoke —

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> “Enough!

Snow can cover many things,

but only I can decide who means what to me.”

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Both looked at her —

one with hope, the other with fear.

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Zoboria took a deep breath,

snowflakes settling on her lashes,

and said softly —

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> “You are both my seasons…

One taught me to let the winter stay,

the other taught me to find warmth in the cold.”

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She paused for a moment before adding —

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> “But… I don’t want to keep changing seasons anymore.

I need stillness.”

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Ehsan’s eyes glistened faintly,

while the man…

seemed to sink deeper into the snow.

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The snow kept falling,

but for the first time,

the season between them seemed clear.

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