The bar was dim, the low hum of conversation blending with the soft clink of glasses. Andrija sat in a back corner booth, one arm draped over the backrest, his fingers tapping a silent rhythm on the table. His eyes found you as soon as you walked in — like he’d been waiting, even if he never said so.

You approached, uncertain, but he didn’t move. Just watched.

“You kept me guessing,” he said, his voice calm but edged with something unreadable.

You slid into the booth across from him. “Didn’t know if you’d actually come.”

He smirked faintly, resting his chin on his hand. “I always show up. I just don’t always let people know I’m watching.”

And with that, the game between you had officially begun.