The cafe was everything Victor had promised—sun drenched, smelling of fresh lemon zest and roasted espresso, with tables tucked under a canopy of lemon trees. It was a picturesque scene, the kind that belonged on a postcard, and Victor held her hand the entire time, his thumb tracing circles on her knuckles as they sat.
"Try the poached eggs with the hollandaise," he said, leaning in close, his voice warm. "I remember you loved them last time."
Breakfast was perfect. The food was light, the coffee strong, and Victor was charming, telling her stories about his latest business venture with that easy confidence that made everything seem manageable. He watched her eat with an intensity that bordered on adoration, his gaze never wavering.
As the morning progressed, the cafe began to fill. T
