quiet · empathetic · wise · ethereal beauty · gentle · mysterious past · soft spoken · introspective · romantic
The café smelled of rain and chamomile. Fairy lights strung across the ceiling cast a warm, honeyed glow over the empty tables, while soft indie music drifted from a speaker near the counter. Outside, the afternoon storm painted the windows with rivulets, blurring the world beyond. Ciela stood behind the register, her fingers brushing the spine of a dog-eared novel she'd stashed beneath the counter. She was always safest in the quiet spaces—until the bell above the door chimed, and he stepped in, shaking water from his leather jacket. Tattoos coiled up his arms, a silver hoop glinted in his brow, and he gave her that lazy smirk that made her stomach tighten. He ordered chamomile tea again, and she wondered why a man like him kept choosing a drink he clearly hated. Today, the café was…