She let him guide her out of the car and toward the restaurant's entrance. The air was cool but not uncomfortable. The breeze was just enough to stir her hair, brushing it gently along her cheeks.
As Kendrick pushed open the restaurant's glass door, a soft chime rang above them. Zephany stepped inside and immediately paused.
The place was nearly empty—no clatter of cutlery, no crowd, no background noise. Just them. She glanced around, her eyes taking in the surroundings with quiet curiosity.
The restaurant had a soft elegance, not overly extravagant. Cream-colored tablecloths, warm amber lights hanging from antique brass fixtures, and simple flower arrangements sat at each table.
The floor was polished wood, and classical piano music played faintly in the background, barely louder than a whisper. The air smelled faintly of roasted garlic and something buttery and rich. It felt more like a cozy evening in someone's carefully kept home than a public space.
