WHEN FOREVER FOUND ME

Chapter Nine- Azul

I didn’t understand him.

I didn’t understand anything about him.

Not his anger.

Not his questions.

Not the way he looked at me.

And definitely not the way he had held my hand before I got out of the car.

I’m allowed to touch you.

Those words kept repeating in my mind.

I stood outside my café for several seconds after getting out of the car.

My hand still felt warm where his fingers had been.

I looked back.

The black car was still there.

He was still sitting inside.

Watching me.

I quickly turned away.

I didn’t know what I was supposed to think.

For two months, he had been coming into my café.

Every day.

Sometimes in the morning.

Sometimes during the afternoon.

Sometimes in the evening.

He always sat near the window.

Always watched me.

Always ordered something.

And always left that ridiculous one-hundred-euro tip.

I had gotten used to seeing him.

Not completely.

I still became nervous whenever he walked through the door.

But I wasn’t terrified of him the way I had been that first night.

Now, though…

I was beginning to wonder if I should have been.

I pushed the café door open.

The bell above it rang softly.

One of my employees looked up.

His eyes widened when he saw me.

He immediately rushed over.

He pointed toward the kitchen.

I followed his gesture.

The ovens.

Oh God.

The bread.

I hurried inside.

The smell of freshly baked bread filled the room.

Warm.

Comforting.

Familiar.

For a moment, everything else disappeared.

This was my place.

My café.

My little world.

The place where things made sense.

I opened the oven and pulled out the trays.

My employee helped me.

Everything was fine.

Nothing had burned.

I exhaled in relief.

Then I remembered my bag.

My phone.

I looked around.

My bag was still where I had left it.

I grabbed it immediately.

My phone had several missed messages from my mother.

Are you coming home tonight?

Another message.

Your father asked about you.

And another from Mateo.

Where are you?

I stared at the messages.

I didn’t know what to tell them.

What could I possibly say?

I was taken to a mansion by the terrifying man who has been coming to my café every day.

I shook my head.

No.

I couldn’t.

I put the phone away.

Then I noticed Dante’s supplies.

The bags of flour.

Sugar.

Butter.

Everything he had delivered earlier.

I remembered I still owed him money.

I immediately looked toward my employee and gestured for him to bring me the payment book.

He did.

I counted the money.

Then stopped.

The door opened.

I looked up.

Enzo was standing there.

My heart jumped.

He had followed me inside.

I hadn’t even heard him enter.

He stood near the doorway, dressed completely in black.

His expression was calmer than before.

But something about him still made the entire room feel smaller.

My employees became unusually quiet.

Enzo’s eyes found mine.

He walked toward me.

I lowered my eyes.

He stopped in front of me.

“You got everything?”

I nodded.

“The bread?”

I nodded again.

“Your bag?”

I lifted it.

“Your phone?”

I showed it to him.

He nodded.

“Good.”

Then his eyes moved toward the bags of supplies.

“Dante’s?”

I nodded.

“I already paid him.”

I frowned.

I quickly picked up the tablet.

You paid him?

“Yes.”

I typed again.

Why?

He looked at me.

“Because I told you I would.”

I stared at him.

Then typed:

I could pay him myself.

“I know.”

Then why did you?

He didn’t answer immediately.

His jaw tightened.

Then he simply said,

“Because I wanted to.”

I didn’t understand.

I looked at him for a long moment.

Then I typed something else.

You don’t have to pay my suppliers.

“I know.”

You don’t have to take care of my business.

“I know.”

Then why?

This time he looked directly into my eyes.

“Because I want to.”

Again.

That answer.

I lowered the tablet.

I didn’t know what to do with a man like him.

He seemed to make decisions without caring whether anyone else agreed.

He had simply decided to pay Dante.

He had simply decided I wasn’t allowed to see anyone.

He had decided other people weren’t allowed to touch me.

And apparently…

He had decided he was allowed to.

My stomach twisted.

I didn’t know whether I was frightened or confused.

Maybe both.

Enzo glanced around the café.

“Are you finished here?”

I nodded.

He looked at my employees.

“You two.”

They immediately straightened.

“Make sure everything is locked properly when you leave.”

They nodded quickly.

Then Enzo looked at me.

“Come.”

I hesitated.

He noticed.

His expression changed slightly.

“Azul.”

I looked at him.

“I’m not taking you anywhere.”

I blinked.

He sighed.

“You have your things. You’re going home.”

Home.

That sounded good.

I picked up my bag.

But before I could move, he reached toward me.

I flinched.

He stopped.

For a moment, neither of us moved.

Something passed through his eyes.

Regret?

I wasn’t sure.

He lowered his hand.

“I wasn’t going to hurt you.”

I nodded slowly.

He stepped aside.

I walked past him.

Outside, the evening air was cool.

The street was quieter now.

I glanced back at the café.

Then at him.

He was watching me again.

Like he always did.

I wondered what he saw when he looked at me.

Why me?

Why did he come every day?

Why did he care who touched me?

Why did he care whether I was seeing someone?

And most importantly…

Who was he?

I still didn’t know his name.

Not really.

He knew mine.

He had said it so easily.

Azul.

But I didn’t know his.

I wanted to ask.

I couldn’t.

Not with my voice.

So I pulled out the tablet.

He watched me type.

I turned it toward him.

What is your name?

He stared at the screen.

For the first time since I had met him, he looked almost surprised.

Then something like amusement appeared in his eyes.

“You really don’t know?”

I shook my head.

He looked away for a second.

Then back at me.

“Enzo.”

I froze.

Enzo.

So that was his name.

I typed it slowly.

Enzo.

He nodded.

“Enzo Vitale.”

I stared at the surname.

Vitale.

I’d heard it before.

Not from anyone I knew personally.

But in Palermo, there were names people spoke carefully.

Names people lowered their voices around.

My stomach suddenly tightened.

I looked at him again.

His expression had become unreadable.

I didn’t ask anything else.

I simply held my tablet against my chest.

Enzo opened the car door for me.

I got inside.

He closed it gently.

As he walked around the car, I stared through the window.

Enzo Vitale.

There was something about that name.

Something dangerous.

Something I suddenly wished I didn’t know.

The car started moving.

I watched Palermo pass outside the window.

Beautiful streets.

Old buildings.

Warm lights.

People walking home.

Everything looked normal.

But my life didn’t feel normal anymore.

Because there