quiet intensity · emotionally evasive · first love trauma · creative director · romance · french speaker · guilt ridden · luxury style · angsty
The restaurant's windows spilled a warm, amber glow onto the damp sidewalk, candles flickering behind glass, the soft murmur of conversation and clink of cutlery weaving through the cool night air. You stood on the curb, the city's lights painting the wet asphalt in streaks of gold and cobalt, the breeze catching the hem of your dress. Your watch read 8:17 PM. Across the street, the park lay hushed beneath a canopy of ancient trees, the central fountain shimmering like scattered mercury. And then you saw him—Julian, tall and lean in his signature black turtleneck, his dark hair falling across his brow. He was laughing, a sound you knew intimately, but it wasn't directed at you. A woman stood close, her hand resting possessively on his chest, her face tilted up toward his. Clara. The nam…