I will always love you

Chapter 2: A Spark in the Storm

I tried not to think about the man, focusing instead on the slow rhythm of my breath and the hum of the café around me. The steam rising from my cappuccino seemed to settle into the air like the fog that often rolled in off the Puget Sound. Everything felt safe here—quiet, predictable, like a piece of my life that was still intact.

But it wasn’t long before I could feel his gaze again, steady and intense, even though I wasn’t looking at him. It was like an invisible thread tugging at the edges of my consciousness, pulling my attention back toward him.

I let out a breath, my fingers tightening around the handle of my cup. Why was I so bothered by him? It wasn’t as if he had done anything—he was just standing there, just another person in this café. But something in the air had shifted when he walked in. The ordinary had become extraordinary, and I hated that I was so aware of it.

I looked up again, cautiously this time. He was still at the counter, but now he was staring at me. Not in the casual way people glance around a room, but with an intensity that made my chest tighten. His eyes, dark and unreadable, held mine for a beat too long. I felt my heart skip, the beat uneven and erratic.

I forced myself to look away, not wanting to be caught in whatever this was—whatever it was that stirred in me when he looked at me. This was dangerous. I couldn’t afford to be distracted by someone like him.

I quickly pulled my book closer, pretending to read, though the words blurred into meaningless shapes. The rain outside, which had seemed so soothing moments ago, now felt like a deluge, each drop tapping against the window as if urging me to look back at him.

And I did.

My eyes darted back to the counter, and to my surprise, he was still there, though now he was moving in my direction. His steps were measured, purposeful, as if he knew exactly where he was going. I should’ve been uncomfortable, maybe even anxious, but there was something about the way he carried himself—something almost magnetic—that kept me frozen in place.

He stopped at my table, his presence looming just a few feet away. For a moment, neither of us spoke, and the world outside seemed to fade into the background. I could feel the thrum of my pulse in my ears, my hands suddenly feeling too warm around my cup.

“Is this seat taken?” His voice was low, smooth, with just the right amount of roughness to make it memorable.

I blinked, unsure of how to respond. "I... no," I stammered, finally pulling my gaze up to meet his. His eyes were even more striking up close—dark, with a hint of something unspoken behind them. Something that didn’t belong in a café on a dreary Seattle afternoon.

He smiled, but there was something guarded in it. Something distant, like he wasn’t really smiling for me, but for some other reason altogether. Without waiting for an invitation, he pulled out the chair across from me and sat down.

I froze. The air between us thickened, charged, and I could feel the pull of his presence in a way I couldn’t explain. This was the last thing I needed. My life was a mess already, and the last thing I wanted was to be distracted by a stranger who didn’t belong in my quiet, predictable world.

He set his coffee down on the table, but his eyes never left mine. The silence stretched on longer than was comfortable, but it didn’t feel awkward—at least not for him. For me, it felt like a slow-burning fuse, just waiting to go off.

“I’m sorry,” he said finally, breaking the silence. “I couldn’t help but notice you sitting here. I know that sounds strange, but something about you caught my attention.”

I raised an eyebrow, unsure how to respond. Was he flirting with me? Or was this just some weird coincidence? Either way, I didn’t want to be the kind of person who entertained random conversations with strangers. I had learned the hard way that those often led to nothing but complications.

“I’m not sure what you mean,” I said, keeping my voice neutral, though I could feel the heat rising to my cheeks.

His lips quirked up in a half-smile, and I saw something playful in his eyes, as if he knew exactly how uncomfortable he was making me. But there was also something else there—something dark. Something that I wasn’t ready to confront.

“Maybe it’s just that I’m used to meeting new people, and you seem... different. Like you’re not really here, not really in the moment.” He tilted his head slightly, studying me. “Like you’re hiding behind your book.”

I resisted the urge to slam it shut and shove it into my bag. He didn’t know me. He had no idea what I was hiding. And I didn’t owe him any explanations.

“I like to be alone,” I said quietly, feeling the need to defend myself. “Sometimes it’s easier that way.”

He nodded slowly, almost as if he understood more than he should. “I get that. But sometimes, even when we’re alone, we’re not really alone, are we?” He said it like a statement, not a question, and it unsettled me even more.

I couldn’t decide whether I wanted him to leave or to stay, but I knew that having him here, sitting across from me, was the last thing I needed.

“I’m sorry, I really need to get going,” I said abruptly, standing up before I could stop myself. My heart was racing, and my palms felt clammy.

He didn’t move, just watched me with those dark, unreadable eyes. “Leaving so soon?”

I nodded, avoiding his gaze. “Yes. I have things to do.”

I could feel him watching me as I grabbed my coat, my heart thumping harder with each second. Before I could make a quick exit, he stood up too, and for a brief moment, our bodies were close enough for me to feel the heat radiating from him.

“Maybe I’ll see you around,” he said, his voice low, almost a whisper.

I nodded quickly, not trusting myself to say anything else. As I turned toward the door, the rain outside felt even colder than before. I pushed through the door and stepped into the storm, my thoughts a tangled mess. I had no idea who that man was, but I knew one thing for certain—he had stirred something inside me, something I wasn’t ready to confront.

And as I disappeared into the rain, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I hadn’t seen the last of him.