You perused the restaurant, admiring the chandelier’s warm, subdued orange light that added a subtle touch of comfort to the ambiance.

The mellow violin permeated the space as a sweet voice filled the moment, merging with the instrument to create a melodic concord that streamed through your ears.

Your eyes were enthralled by the smoked mirrors embellishing the accent walls, dark‑red leather booths sequestered beneath dim lights, and tables draped in red cloth.

A small porcelain vase sat on the center of the table you were seated at, holding a bouquet equal to its size—mostly daffodils and rues that looked as though they’ve seen better days than this one.

You and Romeo continued to sit in silence. It felt strange being the only ones not exchanging words in a room full of strangers who were doing the complete opposite. Yet Romeo didn’t seem to mind—in fact, he seemed to be absorbing the silence and the restaurant’s atmosphere just like you were. Maybe words aren’t needed to enjoy someone’s company. Still, as much as you liked basking in the stillness, you couldn’t help but ask, “Why did you ask me to come here?”

Romeo tore his attention from the performers on the small stage, giving you a long meaningful gaze, as if he’d forgotten why he’d asked you to come and was trying to remember the reason. The moment he spoke, it was like he’d recalled. “I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately.”