There stands Neva, dumbfounded.
"What... what did he just say?" she wonders, her glittering doe-eyes so rounded.
When no words come from her, he leans in—drawing their eyes together along a single, parallel scarlet thread of sight.
His dusky, striking eyes—framed by long lashes—seize her soul in a breathless leap of the heart.
Those dark pupils swell, a mysterious glint dancing in them—
unreadable, teasing, intense.
A faint breath escapes her;
her body feels feather-light, but she stands rooted—her thoughts hopelessly scattered, her senses thawing, dissolving beneath the intense gravity of him.
Her brows knit softly, confusion etched across her delicate features—while her heart drums uproariously in her ears.
Too stunned to speak.
Too astray to even blink.
She doesn't remember a scene, wherein someone had stormed her heart—or frozen the breathings.
The mystery man tilts his head, arms folded across his chest—waiting for a response.
But Neva only meets his gaze, consumed by the warmth radiating from him, by the faint—woody scent that swirls between them.
His presence before her... So... So close.
A crisp crunch of dry leaves beneath an approaching step casts her out of heaven, breaking the heated tether of their gaze.
A stranger—a man—walks past them, briefly glancing at the pair: two lost souls lost in a daydream, standing motionless in the middle of the sidewalk.
Neva blinks, drawn away from the daydream, her panicked eyes flickering here and there, but nowhere near him. "I have to—I have to go."
He straightens, a quiet, pleased serenity etched into his gaze—still locked on her.
Neva swallows hard, her fists clenching at her sides—summoning the last shreds of will left within her. Caught in a moment far too intense,
she concludes to go—far, far away from this man.
"Excuse me," she whispers, quietly steeling her foolish heart, summoning the concealed strength within her 169 cm frame, and turns.
She walks on, feverish... her rosy cheeks aflame, her ears the colour of burning red.
Over her small, faring back, her long, luscious curls bounce—glazed copper in the golden sunlight filtering through the agape of trees.
The strands sway with the enchanted breeze, while red and orange autumn leaves drift down, falling, falling along the moment so slow... the heart so fast.
And she fails to glance back at the mysterious man standing there—and own the blessing of catching his trailing gaze, or the dreamy little smile painting his lips.
---
Neva's steps slow in a lost space as she swats away the blinding fog clouding her mind. The haze gradually clears—though faint wisps of mist still linger in the corners.
She gently bites her lip, thoughts spiralling around the mystery man—a phantom with wings, slicing straight through her muse.
She frowns, her heart aching quietly, agape out of nowhere, without a sensible reason she can assure herself with. She won't ever admit, but a part of her hopes... secretly hopes the mystery man follows.
But who is she kidding? Their paths differ.
Neva sighs softly, her gaze wandering over the quaint street of City Vernellia—its cobblestone paths hushed, trodden by only a few passersby. Cozy shops in neutral, earthy tones line the way, while autumn trees cast gentle shadows, filtering the warm rays of the waning sun.
Just then—her eyes light up, settling on a tiny shop a little ahead: a bakery café with neutral, cream-colored hedges and green vines draping around a wooden signboard that reads, Bournville Bakery & Café.
She steps up the gentle rise of the café's porch, where potted plants and blooming flowers adorn the space—
surrounding a lone Victorian table and four chairs resting to her right.
Her nerves tingle with excitement as she opens the door. The rich aroma of freshly baked bread and sweet pastries mingles with the strong scent of coffee, drifting through her senses—
just as the soft ting of the bell chimes above, announcing her arrival.
The man behind the counter notices her, a kind smile lighting his face as he welcomes her.
Neva nods, returning the smile before stepping further in. Her eyes roam the cozy space—there are scarcely any customers: a lone middle-aged man sits at the back, sipping coffee as he gazes out the window, and a quiet table is occupied by a young couple lost in their own world.
Neva strolls slowly along the counter, her eyes enchanted by the vibrant array of treats displayed behind the glass—each one a burst of color, texture and flavor,
tempting her with the impossible urge to taste them all.
But she leans forward, her gaze fixed on a particular dessert—a three-layered pastry crowned with white frosting and sliced strawberries,
a single bright red strawberry gleaming at the top. She swallows hard, battling the irresistible urge to devour every last one of them—right here, right now!
"You like shortcakes?"
Her eyes brighten like daylight, lips parting in unguarded delight. She's always had a notoriously sweet tooth—and strawberry shortcakes are her ultimate weakness.
"Yes!" she exclaims, almost childlike in her glee.
A presence with a tranquiled heart—she fails to recognize the oh-so-familiar voice.
So unlike the storm that beautiful, handsome man had stirred within her just moments ago.
A youthful smile dances on her lips as she turns to glance at the speaker beside her.
She blinks—once.
Twice.
Her eyes rounding—dramatically slow, stunned.
The veil of trance lifts, revealing a familiar face—just inches away.
It's not a dream.
He's here—truly here.
None other than her mystery man!
He smiles at her—softly, sweetly.
Her knees weaken, thousands of butterflies churning in her belly.
A delicate ting~ of the bell announces a new customer's arrival,
snapping Neva back to her senses.
Neva straightens at once, scrambling to gather her composure. Her wide eyes stare ahead, her thoughts reeling—
just what in the world is happening?
Then her gaze flicks to the cashier behind the counter, amused confusion etched across his features.
Mind hazy—always hazy.
And who else to blame? The mystery man.
Neva shakes her head ever so slightly, drawing in a deep, steadying breath. Her heart races wildly, a heated scarlet blooming from her chest to her cheeks and ears.
"Please," she whispers, swallowing hard.
"Please pack four pieces of strawberry shortcakes and a loaf of bread."
The cashier nods, flicking a quick glance between her and the mystery man—an unspoken query in his eyes, having clearly witnessed their strange, charged exchange.
The keys clatter softly as he types into the register. "That'll be twenty-eight ninety. Anything else, ma'am?"
"No," Neva murmurs, shaking her head.
"Cash or credit?" the cashier asks, glancing up at her.
"Credit, please," Neva breathes—still struggling beneath the fierce gravity of the mystery man standing beside her.
"A cold latte, medium. And a cheesecake for me," says the new customer standing just to her right.
The cashier glances up at him and nods politely. "Please wait a moment, sir,"
he says, taking Neva's card and swiping it through the reader.
"Please visit again, ma'am," the cashier says with a friendly smile, handing her the paper bag filled with bread and shortcakes before returning her card.
Neva nods, daring not a single glance at the mystery man. Her legs feel weak and unsteady as she hurries out of the bakery café—
a burning mess, her head feverish, her heart roaring in her ears, threatening to leap straight out of her chest.
Stepping down from the porch onto the quiet street, she glances back—
just as the faint creak of the glass door reaches her ears.
The mystery man catches her gaze.
Neva quickly turns away, swallowing hard as she forces her trembling legs to move. Soft footsteps follow close behind, and the butterflies in her stomach refuse to rest.
Then her brows knit together.
Wait—did she see that right? The man hadn't been holding anything. Not a coffee, not a pastry—nothing. For someone who'd just visited a bakery café… that was odd.
Her eyes widen, panic creeping in.
Is he following her?
Is he actually a stalker?
Ha! That must be it! Her instincts are rarely wrong! That would explain her body's strange, unsteady reaction to the mystery man.
But… he doesn't look like one. And why on earth would anyone want to follow her?
She presses her lips together, trying to reason with herself—twisting her thoughts to quiet the screaming of her senses, to excuse the wild, inexplicable betrayal of her own body.
Whatever.
She will not—will never—give him the reaction he's seeking again.
She needs to calm down. Stay alert.
Be on guard—and ready herself for the worst.
She spots a convenience store ahead and quickly strides toward it.
Going straight home wouldn't be wise—though every part of her wants to hide within her apartment walls and stop embarrassing herself.
Still, she needs to pick up a few groceries for dinner.
She pushes open the glass door and steps inside, a soft chime announcing her entry.
The store is quiet—
only the cashier at the counter and a few customers wandering the aisles, their carts half-filled and wheels squeaking faintly.
Grabbing a cart from the front,
Neva starts down the aisles, her footsteps light but hurried.
But her heart skips a beat as she casts a quick glance over her shoulder—
There he is. Just a few strides behind.
Hands tucked into the pockets of his hoodie, his gaze drifting casually along the aisles.
Neva presses her lips together and turns away, her steps quickening.
Time blurs—seconds stretching into slow, syrupy spans.
She wanders the aisles aimlessly, pretending to be absorbed in her errands, grabbing random items she doesn't even need—
anything to feign ignorance of the stranger's gaze following her every move.
Anything to delay leaving. Anything to keep from revealing where she lives.
Neva breathes in—each inhale a struggle, each exhale a plea for calm.
Her fingers tremble faintly as she reaches for a pack of cookies among the many stacked neatly in rows.
She sneaks another glance at him.
There he stands—a short distance away—arms crossed, leaning casually against the opposite aisle.
His dark, shimmering eyes are fixed on her.
Neva turns away, biting her lip as she grabs another box of chocolate cookies—her nerves prickling, the urge to confront him for his misbehavior simmering hot beneath her skin.
"What's the matter with him?" she mutters under her breath.
Strangely—and most disappointingly—
she doesn't sense any creepy vibes radiating from him, which only deepens the crease between her brows.
Running through a hundred ways to confront him, she takes a slow, steadying breath, clenches her fists, and whips toward him.
"Why are you following me?" she asks, her voice surprisingly steadier than she feels.
He lifts a strong, dark brow.
Silence.
Her nails dig into her palms as she locks eyes with him, his gaze steady—unflinching.
Her stomach twists; heat floods her face. Oh, no. What if she's made a huge mistake? What if he wasn't following her at all?
The thought makes her almost faint,
she wants to dissapear—
dig a hole right there in the aisle and bury herself for embarassing herself so utterly.
She can't even turn now. She can't move at all.
Her features frozen—masking the chaos within with an impassive, stoic calm.
"I confessed," he says at last, his voice low—measured.
"Yet you gave me nothing in return."
His steps are slow, deliberate—intimidating—as he closes the distance between them.
Neva swallows hard, lifting her gaze to him—he's standing mere inches away.
"Please… keep your distance from me."
He tilts his head, a smug, teasing smile curling at his lips.
"Not until you give me a response."
"I don't owe you any response."
She tries to keep her voice calm, her expression firm and unyielding.
But the telltale flush of rose blooming across her fair cheeks betrays her—giving her away to the mystery man—easily.
"Then I won't keep away—can't. Not until you compensate for the heart you stole." he murmurs,
the smile playing on his lips making him look every bit the charming deceiver.