(Angela’s POV)
The restaurant had emptied out slowly, its lazy hum fading into the late afternoon hush. A slightly noisy ceiling fan spun above us, humming gently against the quiet instrumentals that floated from the speakers tucked into the corners of the room.
Outside the window, the sky had turned solemn. Rain was coming. Clouds had gathered like silent strangers on the edge of a long-forgotten land—dense, brooding, and bruised with the weight of something yet to unravel fully.
A fine drizzle had begun, tracing delicate paths down the glass, whispering in its rhythm that the calm was borrowed, and would soon be reclaimed.
I set my chopsticks down and reached for the glass of water. My hand hesitated for a breath—an unconscious pause, as if my body needed a second to realign—then li
