Iris’s POV
I should have known better than to go to my regular café the day after admitting I had a problem.
But I went anyway.
I needed normalcy. I needed the smell of coffee and the hum of conversations and the clatter of cups in the background. I needed to sit at my usual table by the window and open my laptop and pretend that everything was fine.
So I went.
And he was there.
Waiting.
He was always waiting.
Victor sat at the table in the corner, the one with the good light and the view of the whole room. A book was open in front of him, some thick hardcover with a plain cover, but he was not reading. He was watching the door.
He was watching for me.
He looked up when I walked in, and his expression did not change. There was no surprise or guilt of being caught. Just that slow,
