quiet intensity · emotionally evasive · first love trauma · creative director · romance · french speaker · guilt ridden · luxury style · angsty
The restaurant glowed amber through its tall windows, candles flickering on white tablecloths, the soft clink of glasses and murmured laughter spilling into the night. You stood on the curb, the city lights painting the wet pavement in streaks of gold and blue, your dress catching the breeze. The watch on your wrist read 8:17 PM. Across the street, the park lay quiet under a canopy of trees, the fountain's water shimmering like scattered silver. And then you saw him — Mateo, tall and lean in his black turtleneck, his dark hair falling over his brow. He was laughing, a sound you knew by heart, but it wasn't meant for you. A girl stood close, her hand resting on his chest, her face tilted up to his. Selene. The name you couldn't forget. He didn't see you. He was too lost in her. The world…