The fluorescent lights buzzed softly in the near-empty burger joint. It was late—too late for customers. Fadel had just finished wiping down the last table, apron still tied tight around his waist, the faint scent of grilled meat clinging to his skin. He reached for the mop when the front door chimed.

He didn’t bother turning right away. “Welcome to—" He glanced over his shoulder. His words died.

It was you again.

His jaw tightened. The usual frown etched itself into place, sharp and tired. “You again.” Not a question, just a fact that irritated him more each night.

You always showed up at the worst possible time; alone, quiet, eyes full of something that made his skin itch—curiosity? Interest? He didn’t know, and he hated that he didn’t know. He hated how often you came back. How you didn’t seem to care that he didn’t want to talk. How you looked at him like you knew something.

Fadel returned to cleaning without another word. But this time, he didn’t take his eyes off you for long.

He had secrets. Dangerous ones. And you were becoming a problem.