The bell above the café door chimed, and for an instant, Arion felt the world hold its breath. That delicate sound, mingled with the aroma of freshly ground coffee and warm bread, marked the moment he had both feared and awaited since pressing the call button two days earlier.
Lior stood at the entrance, his silhouette framed against the brightness of the street. He didn't look much different physically the same firm build, broad shoulders, and posture that radiated a kind of constant restraint but there was something new in his eyes. A quiet weariness, as though years of sleepless nights and unresolved memories had settled there.
Their eyes met, and there was no smile, no greeting. Only the weight of a history they had both tried to bury, now dragging them back to the same place.
Arion raised his hand, signaling him to the table by the window. His heart pounded so loudly he almost believed the sound would burst from his chest.
Lior walked toward him, each step heavy with hesitation. When he sat down, there was no handshake, no embrace. Only silence.
"You really called me because of her," Lior said, breaking the invisible barrier. His voice was deep, a little hoarse. "I almost didn't believe you were serious."
Arion drew a steady breath, trying to order the words that came in confused waves."I wouldn't have done it if it weren't important." He leaned forward, elbows on the table. "I felt… signs. I can't explain it, but they're real."
The waiter approached, interrupting the moment with a balanced tray. Arion ordered a black coffee; Lior, a short espresso. When the server left, they were once again surrounded by the muffled clatter of cutlery, French chatter, and ambient music.
"You still believe in this," Lior murmured, not looking directly at him. "After all these years."
"I didn't believe," Arion corrected. "I tried to bury it, Lior. I tried to move on, but Paris… Paris won't let me. The murals, the strange energy, the city behaving as if something were hidden beneath the surface." His voice faltered, but he pressed on. "I feel that Seraya is trying to reach out."
Her name lingered between them, thick as smoke.
Lior sighed, rubbing his temples."You don't know how much I dreaded this moment. The last time we spoke, you were shattered. I didn't know if you'd ever stand again."
"Neither did I," Arion admitted. "But I'm here. And this isn't madness not this time."
The waiter returned, setting the cups gently on the table. Steam rose in spirals, intertwining in the air as if to seal an invisible pact between them.
Arion couldn't wait any longer. He pulled an old photograph from his pocket, its corners frayed with time. He, Lior, and Seraya, arms wrapped around each other as teenagers. The sun gilded her hair, her laughter forever frozen.
Lior averted his eyes immediately, though not fast enough to hide his shiver."I have something too," he said after a long silence. "Something I never told you."
Arion stared at him, startled."What?"
Lior hesitated, fingers tapping the rim of his cup."Shortly before she disappeared, Seraya came to me. You never knew because…" he paused, "…because I thought you couldn't take it. You were broken, Arion. I couldn't throw more weight on you."
Arion's heart raced."Did she say anything? Where she was going?"
"Not exactly." Lior gazed out the window, avoiding his eyes. "But she gave me a notebook. Filled with symbols, fragments of letters, sketches… I never made sense of it. There was one phrase, written over and over: 'If the city changes, follow the melody.'"
The words struck Arion like a revelation. A chill ran down his spine, recalling the distant melody he had heard in the streets, the sense of Paris bending strangely around him.
"That notebook… do you still have it?" he asked, breathless.
"I do. At home. But I've never opened it again."
Silence returned, heavy, until something broke the natural flow of the scene.
Arion noticed it first: the café's noise had ceased. Not gradually, but all at once, as if someone had stripped sound from the air. The conversations, the cutlery, the music everything stopped.
He looked around. The customers were motionless. A couple, hands entwined, froze mid-gesture. The waiter held a tray suspended in the air, unblinking.
Arion's heart slammed in his chest."Lior… do you see this?"
Lior turned his head slowly, eyes wide."What the… hell?"
He shot to his feet, the chair scraping the floor. Yet even that made no sound — nothing pierced the suffocating silence.
For a few seconds, the two of them stood immersed in that impossible suspension. The air felt thicker, as though they were breathing inside glass.
And then, everything returned.
Voices resumed, the waiter continued his motion, the tray wobbled. No one seemed to notice what had happened. Only Arion and Lior remained frozen, stunned, hearts still pounding.
"See?" Arion said, his voice trembling, urgent. "This isn't my imagination. The city is changing."
Lior sat down slowly, color drained from his face. For the first time since their reunion, there was no skepticism in his eyes — only fear."No… this can't…" He ran a hand over his face, as if to erase the vision. "How is this possible?"
Arion pressed his hand firmly to the table."The notebook, Lior. I need to see it. If Seraya left clues, they're there."
His friend took a deep breath, still shaken, but nodded slowly."All right. But you know, if we go down this path, there's no turning back."
Arion didn't answer immediately. His ears caught something beyond the café's murmur: a soft, distant melody that seemed to come from no visible instrument. Piano delicate notes, familiar.
His heart recognized it. The same song Seraya used to play to calm him, when they were young.
He closed his eyes for an instant, letting the melody envelop him.
Seraya was leaving traces.