Can We Become Strangers Again?

It always begins the same way.

The café doorbell chimes. He walk in — hair a little messy, eyes a little tired, carrying the same yellow umbrella that never quite closes properly.

And me?

I’m always there, pretending to read a book I’ve memorized a hundred times.

look up, smile politely, and say,

“Is this seat taken?”

I shake my head. “No, go ahead.”

And that’s how it begins — every single time.

We talk. We laugh. He tells me about his cat, the one who hates everyone but him. He complains about his boss. He ask me why I always order black coffee even though I clearly hate it.

By the time evening settles in, I’ve fallen in love with him — again.

But when the clock hits 9:13, the world flickers.

The café fades. The rain rewinds. The doorbell chimes.

And we start all over again.

---

The first few loops, I thought it was fate — giving me a second chance to make things right.

But no matter how many times I tried — no matter how many ways I told him "I loved you" — it always ended the same.

Time didn’t let me move forward.

It just made me watch him forget.

And today, after the hundredth loop, I finally asked him something different.

“Hey,” I said softly, as he stirred his coffee, “what if… we became strangers again?”

He laughed a little. “We are strangers.”

“No,” I said, voice trembling. “Not really. Maybe we were meant to know each other once. Maybe we broke something time’s trying to fix. But what if the only way to fix it… is to let go?”

He looked at me — confused, like always — but something flickered in his eyes. Recognition, maybe.

A tear slipped down before he could understand why.

And for the first time, I didn’t stop him when he stood up to leave.

I didn’t call after him.

I just whispered,

“Goodbye, love. Let’s be strangers again.”

The doorbell chimed.

The rain fell.

And the loop…

stopped.