We finish up at the office, and I can feel the tension from the day slowly fading away. Arlo suggests we grab lunch, and soon enough, we’re stepping into a cozy little bistro nestled in a quiet corner of the city. The warm lighting and rustic decor make the place feel inviting, a stark contrast to the towering buildings outside. It’s intimate, the kind of place where time seems to slow down.
As we settle into a table by the window, the soft murmur of other diners and the scent of freshly baked bread fill the air. Arlo waves over the waiter and, without hesitation, orders for both of us. It’s clear this is a place he frequents—his ease with the menu tells me as much.
“This place is lovely,” I say, feeling more at ease than I have in days. There’s something calming about the atmosphere, th
