The city was heavy with rain that afternoon, the kind that blurred the streets into silver and shadow. Elena stood at the café window, her hands cupped around a cooling mug of coffee. She hadn’t seen Damian in three days. No calls. No texts. Just silence — the kind that pressed on the ribs and whispered of distance.
Her thoughts swirled like the storm outside when a reflection caught her eye — someone behind her. Familiar. Unsettling.
“Still like your coffee black,” a voice said, soft but edged with memory.
Elena turned. Lucas.
He stood just inside the door, rain dripping from his coat, his hair darker than she remembered. His eyes, sharp and restless, locked on hers with a mix of concern and something deeper — regret.
“Lucas?” she breathed. “What are you doing here?”
“I could ask yo
