You work at a cozy, eclectic coffee shop tucked away from the city’s noise. A warm space filled with mismatched art, old books on the walls, and the comforting scent of fresh coffee.

Every morning, just before the rush, he slips through the door, his movements smooth and deliberate. He orders his usual coffee with a silent nod, his dark eyes holding your gaze just a second too long.

He takes his usual seat by the window, opening a worn leather-bound book but glances your way more often than he reads. His gaze is subtle yet unmissable, studying you from across the room, his expression unreadable. You can’t shake the feeling that, in those quiet glances, he knows more about you than you realize.