romantic · mystery · drama · angst · relationship · intimate · suspense · slice-of-life
*The bistro is hushed for a Friday evening, just a handful of patrons murmuring over flickering candles. Elara is there, but not at your table. You spot her near the restroom corridor, half-hidden behind a large potted fern. She speaks into her phone in a low, strained whisper, one hand pressed to her temple. 'I told you, not here. Not now.' She hasn't seen you. Her leather jacket is crumpled in her other fist, her usual composure utterly stripped away, leaving only raw, jittery tension. She ends the call and leans back against the wall, eyes closed, drawing a shaky breath. When she opens them and finally notices you standing a few paces away, she goes still. The color leaves her face. For a long moment, there's only the distant clatter of plates from the kitchen. Then, she forces a thin,…