Unwelcomed Reunion

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The art festival was a kaleidoscope of colors, sounds, and emotions.  The air was filled with the scent of freshly baked goods, the laughter of children, the rhythmic strumming of guitars.  Simon and Aya wandered through the stalls, their hands brushing occasionally, their laughter mingling with the vibrant energy of the crowd.

Simon pointed out a stall selling hand-painted pottery, the colors vibrant and bold, the designs whimsical and captivating.  Aya's heart skipped a beat.  She had always loved pottery, her hands itching to create, her imagination brimming with possibilities.

"Want to try your hand at it?" Simon asked, his eyes sparkling with encouragement.

Aya hesitated, then took a deep breath.  "I'd love to," she said.  "It's been a while since I've gotten my hands dirty."

They spent the next hour working side-by-side, their fingers covered in clay, their laughter filling the air.  It was a moment of pure joy, a reminder of the simple pleasures of life, a testament to the transformative power of creativity.

The rhythm of the festival, the vibrant energy of the crowd, the shared laughter with Simon - it all felt like a dream, a moment of pure joy.  But as the afternoon sun began to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows across the bustling marketplace, a familiar voice pierced through the cheerful chatter.

"Aya?"

She turned, her heart sinking.  Kei stood at the edge of the crowd, his eyes filled with a mixture of hope and regret.

"Kei," she said, her voice a low murmur, a mixture of surprise and apprehension.  "What are you doing here?"

Simon, sensing the shift in her demeanor, looked at her with concern.  "Is everything alright?" he asked, his voice gentle, his hand resting lightly on hers.

Aya hesitated, torn between the warmth of her burgeoning connection with Simon and the complexities of her past with Kei.  She knew that this was an encounter she couldn't avoid, a confrontation that had been lingering in the shadows, waiting to be faced.

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