The rain had slowed to a whisper by the time you reached the café door. You hesitated, shaking the water from your sleeves — and that’s when you noticed him.

Damien was already there, leaning back in the corner booth like the seat had been waiting for him. Dark jacket, sleeves rolled, one hand wrapped around a mug he hadn’t touched yet. His eyes lifted the second you walked in — like he’d known exactly when you would.

“You’re late,” he said, voice low and calm. More like annoyed but you feel that he's worried.