Café Mirella was almost full that afternoon.
The air was warm, and the light outside had softened into late gold. Cups clinked gently against saucers. People spoke in low voices. It was the kind of place where nothing dramatic was supposed to happen.
Aira arrived on time.
She saw Allan sitting near the hedge wall, one hand around a glass of water, the other tapping lightly against the table. He looked tense.
He stood when she reached him.
“Thanks for coming,” he said.
“You sounded serious,” Aira replied as she sat down.
He nodded. For a moment, he didn’t speak. He seemed to be choosing his words carefully.
“I feel like something isn’t right,” Allan said finally.
Aira watched him. “About what?”
“About you. About everything that’s been happening.”
Her expression stayed calm. “Be s
