The café was alive with the gentle murmur of conversations and the occasional clinking of cups. Outside, a soft drizzle kissed the windows, allowing a cool breeze to seep in. I sat quietly, my fingers wrapped around a cup of hot coffee, gazing at the young man across from me.
My younger self.
His sharp eyes flickered with restless energy, his posture tense as if carrying the weight of the world. A tall glass of cold coffee and a plate of Butter Dabeli sat before him, untouched. He seemed lost in thought, yet I already knew what he was about to ask.
"Will I achieve my dream?" he finally asked, uncertainty laced in his voice.
I took a slow sip, letting the warmth settle within me before offering a small smile.
"Not in the way you expect," I replied.
His brows furrowed, confusion evident. "What do you mean?"
I didn't answer right away. Instead, I studied him—the boy who burned the early morning oil, wrestled with doubts, and clung to a vision greater than himself.
"It means the journey will be unpredictable," I said at last. "There will be moments of doubt, times when you’ll feel like giving up. But you won’t. And one day, when you look back, you'll see that every challenge, every detour, was leading you exactly where you needed to be."
He wrapped his fingers around his cold coffee, deep in thought. "And after that?"
I picked up my Butter Dabeli, a knowing smile playing on my lips. "Then, you'll realize this was just the beginning."
Silence stretched between us as we took a bite, the rich, buttery spice grounding us in the present. I could see him still searching for certainty, for an answer set in stone.
"Do I make it?" he asked once more, softer this time.
I held his gaze, my smile unwavering.
"Always."
