The bell above the diner door chimed for the fifth time in ten minutes, and Elara didn't have to turn around to know it was just another delivery guy looking for the wrong address.
"Welcome to Molly's," she said with a tired smile as she wiped her hands on her apron. The Friday night crowd was thinning, the smell of grease and coffee hanging heavy in the air. Neon lights flickered against the windows like nervous heartbeats.
She liked this time of night-when the world slowed down, and the shadows stretched just a little longer.
"Hey, dreamgirl," Jenna said, popping her gum behind the counter. Her best friend and co-worker, the kind of girl who could flirt with three customers and still count tips faster than anyone else. "That guy in the corner? He's been nursing that coffee for an hour. Cute, though. You should say something."
Elara glanced at the booth in the back.
Empty.
She frowned.
"There's no one there," she murmured.
Jenna raised a brow. "There was. Maybe he dipped out when you weren't looking."
Maybe.
Or maybe he never meant to stay.
---
Outside, the streetlights buzzed as Elara locked up for the night. The rain had stopped, but the pavement still shone like spilled ink. She pulled her coat tighter around her as she walked the two blocks to her apartment, heels clicking softly.
An old man in a trench coat passed her by, nodding politely. A couple laughed across the street. A cat darted from under a car and disappeared into an alley.
The world was familiar. Ordinary.
But something tugged at her. Like being watched in a dream-where you can't prove it, but your skin knows.
---
Upstairs, her apartment was quiet except for the gentle hum of the heater and the ticking clock above the bookshelf.
She poured herself tea. Cinnamon and vanilla. Her favorite.
Across the room, lace curtains fluttered where the window hadn't shut all the way.
She blinked.
Had she opened it?
She didn't remember.
Shrugging, she latched it and pulled the curtain tight. A cold breeze kissed her neck just before she turned away.
---
Outside, across the street, Aiden watched from the shadows between buildings.
He had been careful. Always careful.
But tonight, the window had opened on its own. Just a crack. Just enough.
It felt like an invitation.
He could still taste the trace of cinnamon in the air.
She didn't know she was calling him.
Not yet.
---