Elias’s POV
People see what they want to see.
A soft smile, a worn book in my hands, a corner shop that smelled like pine and paper. A man in sweaters, drinking tea, cataloguing poetry. They see warmth. Quiet. Stability.
No one asks what lies behind the door marked “Employees Only.”
I’d chosen this town because it was small, quiet, and wounded, just like me. A good place to disappear. A good place to watch.
But I never expected her.
The woman who called herself Clara.
I remember it exactly. The morning was gray, with slushy snow gathering in the gutters. I’d just unlocked the front door of the shop when she nearly slipped on the curb, muttered something under her breath, and caught herself by pressing her hand against my window.
The moment I saw her, something jolted in me. Not rec
