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Chapter 2 - Chapter Three – Pulling Threads

Chapter Three – Pulling Threads

The rain didn't come that morning. The city sat in a breathless hush, like it knew something was about to break.

Hazel stood behind the counter at Snowdrift Coffee, fingers wrapped around a chipped ceramic mug. Sleep clung to her eyes. Samuel had kissed her forehead before work, told her he loved her. She'd said it back.

But the words tasted hollow.

The bell above the café door chimed.

She looked up—and time thinned.

Henry Vane stepped in from the cold, not in a suit this time, but in black jeans and a coat that looked like it had seen war. His presence rippled through the quiet space like static.

Their eyes met. No pretense this time.

"Still making the best coffee in the city?" he asked.

Her throat tightened. "Depends who's drinking."

He moved closer. Close enough to smell her skin. "Hazel, right?"

The way he said her name—like it was a secret he wasn't supposed to know—made her chest ache.

She gave a shaky smile. "You're not here for coffee."

"No," he said, eyes trailing her mouth. "I'm here for clarity."

She swallowed. "About what?"

He leaned in, voice low. "About why I haven't stopped thinking about the girl who watches thunderstorms barefoot on her rooftop."

She froze. Her fingers gripped the counter. "You've been watching me."

"Only when you're watching the sky."

Later, Samuel surprised her with flowers. Lilies. He kissed her neck, held her waist, whispered about weekend plans. Hazel nodded, smiled, said the right things.

But her heart was back in the shop. Back in that breathless moment when she realized someone had seen her—not just her face, but something deeper. Something buried.

That night, she went to the rooftop again. This time, she didn't look at the stars.

She looked across the skyline.

And there he was.

Leaning against the rail of his glass tower, lit by the city's cruel beauty, Henry Vane raised a hand—slow, sure, like a promise without words.

Hazel didn't wave back.

But she didn't go inside either.

She stood there, still as the night.

And let the thread between them stretch tighter.

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