Media Secret: Hidden Johansson

Returning to the Familiar

The weeks since my return to Los Angeles had passed in a blur of small, quiet moments. Adjustments, Scarlett had called them. Small steps into the world again. I hadn't really seen many people outside of her—just brief interactions here and there, usually at a grocery store or while out walking. The idea of diving back into anything more social felt too overwhelming.

But there was one looming encounter I couldn't keep putting off. Florence.

The last time we'd spoken, it had been over text, and even then, I'd kept my responses short. I knew I couldn't avoid her forever—there were too many loose threads between us, too much unsaid—but the thought of seeing her again felt heavier than I was ready for.

It wasn't just Florence though. It was the entire world outside my mother's carefully controlled bubble. Returning to normal life, even the thought of getting back into work, seemed like a distant reality, something too far removed from where I was now.

But today was different. I was standing in the kitchen, sipping coffee, when my phone buzzed with a new message.

Florence:I'm in LA for a few days. Coffee? No pressure, just let me know when you're ready.

I stared at the screen for a long time, my mind racing. She was in town. I knew I had to face this. There was no running from it anymore.

Scarlett came into the kitchen, glancing at the phone in my hand. "Everything alright?" she asked, sensing the shift in my mood.

"Yeah," I said quietly, my voice betraying a hint of hesitation. "It's Florence. She's here in town."

Scarlett raised an eyebrow but didn't push me. She just poured herself a cup of coffee and leaned against the counter, waiting.

"I'm not sure if I'm ready to see her," I admitted after a long pause.

My mother took a sip of her coffee and gave me one of those soft, understanding looks she'd perfected over the past year. "You've come a long way, Tom," she said. "But only you know when you're truly ready. If it feels like too much right now, that's okay. She'll understand."

I nodded, but I knew I couldn't put it off any longer. Florence had been there for me through some of the hardest times in my life, and while I had retreated into myself during my time in Switzerland, she deserved more than just avoidance.

"I'll text her back," I said, finally. "I'll see her today."

Scarlett smiled gently. "Good. I think you're ready."

A few hours later, I found myself sitting at an outdoor café in Santa Monica, the sun filtering through the trees, casting a warm glow over the small patio area. I hadn't dressed up—just jeans and a simple jacket—keeping it casual, though my heart wasn't quite in sync with the ease I was trying to project. The last year had changed so much, and while I was back in LA, the emotional distance between me and the world felt larger than the miles I had traveled.

Florence had been a constant in my thoughts, even when I didn't want her to be. There had been late nights in Switzerland when I'd replayed every word, every touch, every quiet moment between us. I'd wondered if we still had a chance, or if too much time had passed, if I'd changed too much. But despite the uncertainty, I knew I had to see her.

And now here I was, waiting, the familiar hum of nerves creeping up as I scanned the café for her. My hand tightened around the cup in front of me, the warmth grounding me in the moment.

Then I saw her.

Florence walked in, effortlessly beautiful as always. She wore a light dress that moved with the breeze, her hair falling in soft waves around her shoulders. Her smile—bright and familiar—instantly tugged at something deep in my chest. But it was her eyes that caught me off guard. They were soft, but there was something behind them, something different. Maybe it was just me. Maybe the distance had shifted how I saw her.