The café was quiet that evening, the kind of silence only broken by the soft hum of rain tapping against the glass windows. Emma sat at her usual corner table, her leather-bound notebook open in front of her. She wrote carefully, her pen dancing across the page, recording thoughts she would never dare to say out loud.
For weeks now, she had noticed him. The stranger. Always alone, always seated just far enough away to watch without being obvious. His eyes, dark and unreadable, followed her every movement. Emma tried to ignore it at first, but curiosity had a way of growing stronger with each visit.
That night, the air felt heavier. The rain outside blurred the streetlights, and the café’s dim lamps cast golden shadows over the tables. Emma was so lost in her words that she didn’t see him rise from his chair.
“Mind if I join you?”
His voice was low, steady, almost too confident. Emma looked up, startled. He was taller up close, his presence overwhelming yet magnetic. Against her better judgment, she nodded.
Adrian—that was his name. Or at least, that’s what he told her. Their conversation began with polite remarks, but there was something unspoken beneath every word, every glance. His eyes flickered toward her notebook more than once, as if he already knew what was inside.
Emma felt a rush of heat in her chest. Why did he look at her that way? Why did she feel like he could see through her carefully guarded secrets?
The minutes stretched into an hour. The rain fell harder. Somewhere between the shared silence and the half-smiles, Emma realized she wasn’t just speaking to a stranger—she was unraveling in front of him.
At last, Adrian leaned closer, his breath brushing against her ear. His words were soft, but they struck her like lightning.
“You write beautifully, Emma. Especially the parts about what you really want.”
Her blood turned cold. The notebook was closed. She had never read those words aloud to anyone.
How could he possibly know?