Stefan’s POV
I sat by the window, my knee bouncing in a restless rhythm that I couldn't seem to stop. I was early—painfully early. The steam from my untouched coffee curled into the air, mirroring the fog in my head. I had no idea why Daphne had called this meeting, and the unknown was eating me alive.
"Here you go," the waiter said, sliding a fresh cup onto the wooden table.
"Thanks, but I don't think she's—" I started, glancing at the door. My voice died in my throat as the bell chimed. Daphne stepped inside, her silhouette framed by the morning light. "Never mind," I muttered, waving the waiter away.
She walked toward me with a composure that made my stomach twist. There was a faint smile on her lips, but it didn't reach her eyes. As she sat down, she looked at everything—the menu,
