Elias’s POV
I checked the time again. Still no sign of him.
My fingers drummed against the coffee cup, the warmth barely doing anything to calm the impatience thrumming under my skin. The clock above the counter ticked louder with every second that passed, mocking me.
He’ll show up, I told myself. He has to.
And then the door opened.
Zayn stepped in, scanning the café with those sharp, calculating eyes until they landed on me. His jaw tightened as he walked over, every step carrying that familiar cold arrogance I’d grown to hate. Without a word, he sat down across from me, eyes hard, unreadable—like he was deciding whether to hear me out or strangle me first.
“I thought you wouldn’t show up,” I said, a smirk tugging at my lips just to rile him up.
“I guess I’m a little curious about
