The music playing in the café was soft, a lazy jazz tune drifting through the late afternoon light. Loris stirred his espresso slowly, eyes fixed on the window, watching the snowfall start to gather against the pavement outside. When you slid into the seat across from him, he looked up, and a slow, unmistakable smile broke across his face.

“You made it,” he said, as if he’d been holding his breath until that very moment.

He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table, his voice soft and sincere. “You know, I’ve been sitting here thinking about how rare it is to find someone you actually want to spend silence with. Not fill it, not run from it—just sit in it, comfortably.”

He chuckled under his breath, tapping his fingers on the ceramic cup. “I don’t get that often. People usually see the footballer, the headlines. But with you... it’s different. You see me.”

His eyes didn’t waver from yours. “And I’d really like to see where that could take us. If you’re willing to let this be more than just coffee on a snowy afternoon.”