Chapter Two: Unfinished Conversations
639 Words
Zara didn’t expect to see him again.
In her world, people like Adrian were ghosts—you noticed them once, deeply, and then they vanished. That was the pattern. One moment of intensity, then silence. But Kensington seemed to enjoy folding time in strange ways.
Two weeks had passed since the bridge. She hadn’t told anyone—not her therapist, not her best friend Layla, not even herself in her journal. But she’d thought about him. More than she cared to admit. His eyes. The way his voice sounded like it was always trying not to crack. The way he said “You ruined it” like it was a dare and a thank you.
She shook the thought off and pushed through the coffee shop door.
The bell above chimed. Warm air and the scent of espresso wrapped around her like a blanket. This was her spot—*Roast & Revel*—all wood tones, ambient jazz, and too many plants. Her peace palace.
She ordered her usual—double macchiato, one sugar, no small talk—and claimed the window seat.
She’d barely pulled out her laptop when she heard the voice.
“No red coat today?”
Her fingers froze mid-type.
She looked up.
Adrian.
He stood a few feet away, rain on his shoulders, hoodie half-zipped, holding a paper cup like it was the only thing tethering him to this planet. His eyes were softer than she remembered.
Zara blinked, trying not to look too startled. “You followed me?”
He raised an eyebrow. “To the most popular coffee shop downtown?”
She gave him a look.
He smiled—gently, genuinely. “Relax. I’m not a stalker. Just a guy with excellent taste in caffeine.”
She motioned to the chair across from her. “You’re already here. Might as well sit.”
He did.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The coffee steamed between them, and outside the window, the city carried on in motionless blur.
Zara cleared her throat. “So… still alive, I see.”
Adrian smirked. “Against all odds.”
They sipped in silence again.
Zara studied him now, more closely. He looked… tired. Not just in the eyes, but in the bones. Yet, there was something alert beneath the weariness. Something watchful.
“So,” she said slowly. “Do you usually meet women in moments of crisis?”
Adrian chuckled. “Only the pretty, sarcastic ones who interrupt my dramatic exits.”
Zara almost smiled. “Lucky me.”
He leaned forward slightly. “Why did you stop me?”
The question caught her off guard.
She glanced down at her coffee. “Because I know how it feels. To not want to be here. To feel like... no one would notice if you were gone.”
He nodded. Slowly. Like he understood more than he let on.
“I noticed,” he said.
She looked up.
Adrian stared at her like she was something rare. Not in a romantic way—yet—but like someone who had been invisible for a long time and suddenly wasn’t.
“You’re different,” he added.
Zara shrugged, uncomfortable with the weight of his gaze. “We all are.”
“Not like that.”
They didn’t speak after that. Not because there was nothing to say, but because the moment didn’t need filling. It was one of those rare silences that spoke for itself.
After a while, Adrian stood. “I should go.”
Zara nodded. “Okay.”
But before he turned to leave, he said, “I’m glad you ruined it, Zara.”
Then he was gone.
And Zara? She sat there for a long time, staring at the seat he left behind, wondering why the hell her heart was beating so fast.
- Writer
