The bell above the café door chimed softly, a gentle sound she usually associated with regulars picking up late-night pastries or tourists wandering in after hours, confused by the dimmed lights.
But the moment she heard it, a cold ripple danced along her spine.
Not because of the sound—but because of the feeling that followed it. That sense of being watched, of old ghosts dragging their feet across your doorstep.
She looked up from where she stood behind the counter, wiping down the espresso machine, the cleaning cloth pausing in her hand when she saw him.
Adrian.
Like a chapter she thought she'd finally closed, standing there wearing that tailored coat and expensive watch, hair styled perfectly messy like he'd just walked off the cover of a lifestyle magazine. Still devastatingly handsome, still carrying that careless charm that used to unravel her in seconds.
But not anymore.
Not after everything.
