Chapter 2 - The One Who Waited
1293 Words
Outside, the city was wet.
The rain had left shining surfaces on the pavement, where the houses reflected in small, distorted pieces.
Elena pulled her jacket closer around herself.
She liked mornings like this.
The city was not fully awake yet.
People moved through the streets with sleep still on their faces and warm drinks in their hands.
Cars passed by.
A bicycle bell rang.
Somewhere, a metal roller door was pulled open with a loud, scraping sound.
The world began to become itself.
Elena walked towards the station.
She had been there many times.
Still, she took out her phone and checked the address.
Then she put it away.
One minute later, she took it out again.
Not because she did not know where she was going.
She did.
She just wanted to be sure.
It was not the same thing.
She told herself that.
On the platform, she stood slightly apart from everyone else.
Not because she disliked people.
She didn't.
Most of the time.
She liked watching them.
A woman who had forgotten to put on one of her gloves.
A man reading the same message three times.
A little boy trying to kick a puddle without getting his shoes wet.
Elena smiled.
She had always been good at noticing the small things.
That was probably why she had become an illustrator.
Or perhaps she had become an illustrator because she needed to give the small things somewhere to remain.
The train arrived.
The doors opened.
She stepped inside.
Found a seat by the window.
The portfolio rested on her lap.
She let her hand lie on top of it.
As if it were something alive.
As if it could escape.
Elena looked out through the window.
The city passed by.
Brick.
Trees.
Wet rooftops.
People moving quickly.
She tried to think about the meeting.
About the presentation.
About the project.
About the work she had been invited to talk about.
Instead, she thought about her illustrations.
Not about the forest.
Not about the fjord.
Not about the causeway.
About the magnolia branch.
About the wild herbs.
About all the small things she had drawn because someone had asked her to see them.
That was the strange thing about her work.
People often thought it was about knowing how to draw.
And of course, it was.
But the most important thing was knowing how to see.
Elena had never struggled with that.
She saw too much.
She always had.
She saw when people smiled without being happy.
When someone said it was fine, but meant the opposite.
When a plant began to wither before anyone else noticed.
She saw the things that were beginning to change.
She just did not always know what to do with them.
The train turned.
For a moment, the light moved across her face.
Elena turned her gaze towards the window.
There was no mist.
Only the city.
Only the rain.
Only her own reflection.
She blinked.
And for a brief moment, she thought her eyes looked lighter than usual.
Almost silver-grey.
She looked away.
When she stepped off the train, the rain had started again.
Not much.
Just a fine, almost invisible drizzle.
Elena pulled up her hood.
She still had twenty minutes.
That was more than enough.
She liked arriving early.
Not because she was afraid of being late.
But because it was nice to have time to find the right place.
To see the building.
To breathe.
To let her body understand that she had arrived.
She walked along the pavement.
The buildings around her grew taller.
More impressive.
Less personal.
Glass.
Stone.
Metal.
Everything was clean and polished, made for people who knew exactly where they were going.
Elena looked down at her portfolio.
Then looked up again.
She knew where she was going.
She had been invited.
They had seen her work.
They had chosen her.
That was a fact.
She repeated it to herself.
And yet, it still didn’t quite feel that way.
She stopped in front of the building that stretched up before her in dark glass and stone.
A name stood on the facade.
A name she had seen many times.
A name she had never expected to stand in front of.
Elena adjusted the strap of her bag, took a deep breath, and then walked inside.
Inside, it was warm.
A woman at the reception smiled.
“Good morning.”
“Good morning.”
Elena smiled back.
“I have a meeting with—”
She stopped.
Had she remembered the right name?
She had.
She knew she had.
“With Mr. Thorne.”
The receptionist typed something on her computer.
“Yes. They are expecting you.”
Elena had never gotten used to people saying it that way.
As if she was someone who could be expected.
As if her arrival was part of a plan.
“Thank you.”
She stepped aside.
A man showed her the way through the building.
Elena tried not to look too closely at everything around her.
She failed.
There were large illustrations on the walls.
Photographs.
Sculptures.
Plants in tall, black pots.
Everything was elegant without being showy.
She thought that someone had spent a great deal of time making the place look as though no time had been spent on it at all.
She liked that.
But it also made her a little nervous.
The elevator rose silently.
She saw her reflection in the polished doors.
Her hair still looked the way it should.
Her shirt wasn’t wrinkled.
Her portfolio was tucked beneath her arm.
She looked professional.
That was good.
It had to be good.
The doors opened.
The man led her into a large meeting room with windows stretching from floor to ceiling.
The city lay beneath them.
Grey and wet.
A living thing.
Elena walked towards the window.
She almost reached out to place her hand against the glass when she heard a voice behind her.
“Miss Eldren?”
She turned.
And for the first time, she saw Adrian Thorne.
The first thing she noticed was his hair.
Dark.
With silver at his temples.
Not enough to make him look old.
Just enough to make him look like life had left its marks on him and he had not been allowed to hide them.
There was silver in his beard as well.
A little more around his chin.
His face was calm.
Controlled.
But his eyes were not.
They rested on her with an intensity she couldn’t quite understand.
Adrian was tall.
Broad-shouldered.
Not in a way that seemed overwhelming.
More like a man who had been forced to carry a great deal and had learned how to do it without complaint.
Elena realized she had forgotten to answer.
“Yes. That’s me.”
His gaze remained on her a moment longer.
Not rude.
Not intrusive.
Just...
long.
Then he held out his hand.
“Adrian Thorne.”
His voice was deep.
Calm.
The kind of voice that didn’t need to be raised to be heard.
Elena placed her hand in his.
And something happened.
Not something big.
Not something dramatic.
There were no flashes of lightning.
No sudden visions.
Just warmth.
His hand was warm.
Her fingers rested in his.
For a moment longer than they needed to.
Then he let go.
Elena drew in a breath.
She hadn’t realized she had been holding it.
Adrian was still looking at her.
Intently.
Curiously.
As if he was trying to hold back the storm raging through his mind and chest.
And deep inside him, something awakened.
Not first within him.
But within the wolf.
It lifted its head, sharp and alert, as if it had recognized her before he did.
“Elena.”
- Writer
