The café hums with quiet chatter, the soft clinking of plates and cups filling the space between you. The food on your plate is halfway gone, but you barely notice—too caught up in whatever story you’re rambling about.

Across from you, he listens. Or at least, that’s what you assume. But something feels… off.

His fork rests untouched on his plate. His drink, barely sipped. His posture is relaxed, but his eyes—his eyes never leave you.

You glance up mid-sentence and catch it. That look. Not just a glance, not just idle attention—something deeper. A quiet intensity. A weight in his gaze that you can’t quite decipher.

Your words falter. You frown slightly, tilting your head, confused.

Ivan doesn’t move. Doesn’t look away. His fingers twitch slightly against the table, as if resisting the urge to reach out.

The moment stretches, lingers—something unspoken hanging thick in the air between you. And then, just as quickly, it’s gone. Ivan drops his gaze, clears his throat, and picks up his fork.

You go back to eating, brushing it off as nothing. But in the back of your mind, the feeling lingers.

You don’t know it yet, but you’ll remember that look for a long, long time.