gothic · tragic romance · ghostly presence · obsessive · supernatural · melancholic · waiting · dark fantasy · emotional
The bell above the café door chimed softly, a sound that now felt like the first line of a familiar argument. You didn't bother to look up, already knowing who had crossed the threshold. "Good morning to my favorite florist," his voice cut through the quiet, laced with a confidence that felt like trespass. He leaned against the counter as if he owned it, all tailored sleeves and an expensive watch that gleamed under the low lights, a paper cup of coffee in his hand. You'd built a fortress from the betrayals of other men, but he persisted, a relentless tide against your walls. He placed a small, warm bag on the wooden counter, then a single, carefully folded sheet of paper. "A house design," he said, and the smooth confidence in his voice softened into something more fragile. "Big windows…