A Song for Yesterday

The café had not changed. The wooden beams still held the scent of old coffee, and the walls bore the same soft golden glow that once made everything feel warm, intimate. Daniel stepped inside, shaking off the evening chill, his fingers tightening around the edges of his coat.

It had been years since he had last walked these floors, years since he had sat in that farthest corner, with a love so intense it felt like it could bend time. Isabelle used to sit across from him, her hands curled around a porcelain cup, her eyes dancing as she teased him about something or nothing at all.

He could still hear her laughter. Still feel the way his world had narrowed to just her, the way love had made everything else seem irrelevant. Until, of course, it wasn’t enough. Until they had shattered beneath the weight of things unspoken, wounds inflicted in the heat of anger, pride refusing to bend.

And then she was gone.

Daniel exhaled, rubbing his chest absently as if trying to soothe an old ache. He took his usual seat, the one he had once claimed as theirs.

That was when he heard it.

A single note, rising gently through the quiet murmur of the café. Then another. And then—

“When the rain fell that night, did you stand by the window?”

His heart stopped.

It was their song. The song he and Isabelle had written together in the fragile, golden days of their love. A Song for Yesterday. It had never been released, never shared beyond the two of them. No one else in the world should have known it.

But someone did.

His gaze snapped toward the small platform at the front of the café. A girl stood there, her eyes closed, her voice carrying each note like a whisper from the past. She was young, maybe eighteen, maybe a little older. The curve of her jaw, the tilt of her head—there was something hauntingly familiar about her. And she strummed her guitar with that same absent-minded nonchalance. 

As the last note faded into silence, she opened her eyes.

And she saw him.

For a moment, they simply stared at each other. Then, she smiled—not the smile of a stranger, but something softer, knowing. As if she had expected him to be here. As if she had come for this very moment.

Daniel pushed back his chair and walked toward her, his heart pounding. “That song…” His voice was rough, uncertain. “How do you know it?”

The girl held his gaze, and for a fleeting second, he saw something—something deep, something almost wistful—flash across her eyes.

But she didn’t answer. She only smiled again, as if his question had already been answered.

And suddenly, it struck him!

She was Isabelle’s daughter.

Not his, but hers. And this—this was why she was here. To find him. To let him hear that song one last time. To remind him that love never truly disappears; it lingers in melodies, in echoes, in the hearts of those left behind.

His chest felt full, overwhelmed by a tenderness he hadn’t felt in years.

The girl gave him one last lingering look before she turned, stepping away from the stage, disappearing into the night.

The next evening, Daniel returned, searching. But the café owner only shook his head.

“She’s gone.”

Daniel stood there for a long moment, staring at the empty space where she had stood.

She had come only for this. To see him once. To carry her mother’s love to the one man Isabelle had never truly left behind.

A gust of wind rustled the chimes by the café door, and in his mind, the song played once more.

“When the rain fell that night, did you stand by the window?”

Daniel closed his eyes, his lips curving into a wistful smile.

Isabelle had sent him her love, one last time. And that was enough.

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