Chapter 2

The next morning, Elena woke with the memory of gray eyes and a voice that had followed her into her dreams. She tried to push it away while brushing her teeth, while tying her hair into a messy bun, while hustling through the noisy subway crush — but Adrian Blackwood’s words lingered.

“Maybe you just haven’t met the right stranger yet.”

Her lips curved despite herself.

By lunchtime, she gave up pretending she hadn’t checked her phone three times, half-expecting a message that couldn’t possibly come. They hadn’t exchanged numbers. That was safer, she told herself. Safer to let the night remain what it was — an odd, beautiful accident.

But fate, it seemed, wasn’t finished.

At four o’clock, the café door chimed again. Elena had ducked in after work, telling herself she needed caffeine, not company. Yet when she looked up from her laptop, there he was. Black coat, quiet confidence, that same knowing smile when he spotted her.

Her heart stuttered.

“You again?” she said as he approached.

“You sound surprised,” Adrian replied, sliding into the chair across from her as if he belonged there.

“I am,” she admitted, closing her laptop. “What are you doing here?”

“Same as you. Coffee.” He leaned back, studying her. “Unless you think I’m stalking you.”

Her brow arched. “Should I?”

“Not unless you want to flatter yourself,” he said smoothly.

She laughed despite the warning bell in the back of her mind. “You’re impossible.”

“Not impossible. Just persistent.”

“Persistent about what?”

“About getting to know you.”

The words, simple as they were, sent a rush of warmth through her chest. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, trying to sound casual. “You don’t waste time, do you?”

“Life’s short,” Adrian said. “Why wait?”

Elena’s smile faltered for a second. Life was short — too short for her mother, gone too early, too short for every relationship that had collapsed before it had the chance to last. She swallowed the memory and looked at him again.

“Fine,” she said lightly. “If you want to know me, ask something.”

His eyes lit, steady and curious. “What’s your favorite book?”

She blinked. “That’s your question?”

“It tells me more than you think.”

Elena laughed softly. “Alright. Jane Eyre. Don’t laugh.”

“I wouldn’t. You like women who fight back.”

“And you?” she asked quickly, trying not to feel too exposed.

He paused, as though considering carefully. “The Count of Monte Cristo.”

Her lips quirked. “Revenge and secrets. That’s…dark.”

“Maybe. Or maybe it’s about patience. About waiting for the right moment.”

Something in the way he said it gave her a shiver, though his expression remained calm, unreadable. She looked away, sipping her coffee to steady herself.

“Alright,” she said. “My turn. Why are you really here?”

“To see you.”

“You barely know me.”

“That’s the point.” He leaned forward, eyes intent. “I want to.”

Elena’s cheeks warmed. She was giddy, absurdly so, like she hadn’t been in years. She fiddled with her spoon, avoiding his gaze. “You’re very direct.”

“Would you prefer I lie?”

“No.” She hesitated, then added softly, “But it’s…a little intense.”

He sat back, letting the tension ease. “I can slow down.”

The café bustled around them, but it felt quieter at their table, like the rest of the world blurred. Adrian asked about her job, her hobbies, her favorite places in the city. He listened without interrupting, his attention focused entirely on her, and Elena found herself opening up in ways that startled her.

She told him about her work in publishing, about the manuscript rejections that piled higher than the acceptances, about how sometimes she wondered if chasing words was worth it. She even admitted her love for old movies no one else cared about.

Adrian smiled. “That’s not boring. That’s… you.”

And just like that, her chest tightened again.

When he shared, it was less. He spoke of traveling for work, of liking quiet corners of the city, of growing up with too many secrets to count. He didn’t elaborate, and she didn’t push, though part of her wanted to.

At one point, she teased, “You’re very mysterious.”

“Maybe I like it that way.”

“Maybe I should be careful,” she said, half-joking.

“Maybe,” he agreed softly.

Her laughter caught, faltered, but he changed the subject quickly, asking about her favorite childhood memory. By the time she checked her phone, hours had slipped by unnoticed.

“Oh God,” she said. “It’s late.”

“Do you need to go?” Adrian asked.

“I should,” she admitted. “Work tomorrow.”

He didn’t argue, only stood as she gathered her things. Outside, the rain had returned, soft and steady under the yellow glow of streetlamps. Adrian pulled out an umbrella, wordlessly sheltering her as they walked.

“You don’t have to,” she began.

“I want to,” he said simply.

Their shoulders brushed as they moved through the slick streets, and Elena’s heart beat faster, the city noise muffled by the patter above them.

At her corner, she paused. “Thank you. For the coffee. And the walk.”

“You’re welcome,” Adrian said. His eyes caught hers, and for a moment, neither moved.

Elena’s throat went dry. She could almost hear her best friend’s voice in her head: Slow down. Don’t fall too fast.

But she was already falling.

“Goodnight,” she whispered.

Adrian’s voice was low, steady. “Goodnight, Elena.”

She turned, forcing herself to walk, but halfway up the steps to her building, she glanced back.

He was still there, standing beneath the umbrella, watching her with that same unreadable expression.

She didn’t know why her chest tightened at the sight.

Maybe it was excitement.

Maybe it was something else.

But as she slipped inside, heart pounding with giddy hope, Elena didn’t dare question it.

For the first time in a long time, she felt alive.

And for now, that was enough.