The next morning, Celina stepped out for her usual walk, coffee in hand. The streets were alive with the soft rhythm of the city — people hurrying to work, the occasional dog walker, the smell of fresh bread from the bakery down the street. She liked mornings here. They felt peaceful, unclaimed by the ghosts of her past
She almost missed it — Adrian, carrying a small toolbox toward his apartment. Celina paused at the corner, pretending to tie her shoe, but her gaze lingered. He looked up and caught her staring. For a moment, there was a flicker of surprise in his eyes — quickly replaced by a polite, small smile
"Good morning," he said casually.
"Uh… good morning," Celina replied, a little stiffly.
"I'm Adrian," he said again, smiling.
"Celina," she answered shortly.
Over the next few days, their paths crossed more often than coincidence could explain: the elevator, the mailbox, the tiny grocery store nearby. Each time, their interactions were brief, casual, and strangely comfortable.
"Hey, do you know if the café down the street opens early?" she asked one morning as she balanced her coffee and shopping bag.
"Six thirty," Adrian replied immediately, "but the croissants aren't good until seven."
Celina blinked. "How do you know that?"
He shrugged, calm as ever. "Tried them. Not great. Seven is better."
She felt a small, unexpected laugh escape her. He's… honest. Too honest, she thought, brushing a strand of hair from her face. But she pushed the feeling aside.
Later, she noticed him in the elevator carrying a small stack of books. "Those all for you?" she asked, curiosity slipping in despite herself.
"Mostly," he said, "but some I'm lending to the building library. You know, for anyone who wants them."
Celina raised an eyebrow. "The building has a library?"
He smiled lightly. "Not exactly. More like… a shelf in the lobby. But someone has to keep the books from collecting dust."
There was something effortless about the way he spoke — no pretense, no hidden agenda. It made her wary and intrigued at the same time. She found herself looking for him on her walks, noticing little details: how he paused to greet the doorman, how he helped an elderly neighbor with groceries, how his laughter was quiet but genuine.
By the end of the week, Celina realized she was thinking about him more than she wanted to admit. She felt a spark, a fragile, thrilling sense of hope she hadn't felt in years.
Maybe… maybe people like him do exist, she thought as she sipped her coffee one morning. Maybe… trust isn't impossible.
Still, she didn't let herself fully believe it. She had walls for a reason, and Adrian had yet to cross them completely. But each passing day, each small conversation, made her heart a little lighter — made her curiosity about him grow a little stronger.
That Saturday, they met in the small park she often visited. Adrian was sitting on a bench, sketchbook in hand, sketching the trees and the morning light. She watched him for a moment, feeling an odd mix of curiosity and admiration.
"Do you always sketch in public?" she asked, walking over.
"Only when the light is good," he replied, looking up with a warm smile. "It's peaceful here. And the city has… character."
Celina glanced at his drawing — simple, yet detailed, capturing the calm morning perfectly. "You're good," she said, genuinely impressed.
"Thanks," he said, shrugging lightly. "I like seeing things clearly, I guess. No need to complicate them."
Something in that sentence struck her. It wasn't boastful, it wasn't a lie — just honest and simple. And for reasons she didn't yet understand, it made her heart skip.
As she walked away, she caught herself smiling faintly. Adrian had no idea, but he was slowly breaking through the careful boundaries she had built around herself.
Maybe… maybe he's different, she thought. And that tiny, daring hope scared and thrilled her all at once.