Serafina was a tough nut to crack, perhaps the toughest Kafka had ever come across.
He had always been known, in one way or another, for his ability to connect with women. Sooner or later, whether through charm, humor, or sheer persistence, he would usually find a way in.
It had been like that his whole life. Women who started wary of him often softened in time, drawn in by the mix of gentleness and strength that defined him.
But Serafina...she was different. She was the outlier.
No matter how many times Kafka tried to strike up conversation with her, to make her smile with a joke, or even to dig around for her interests, she never budged.
Her replies were always the same, stiff, measured, professional. She treated him like a commander and nothing more.
Always composed, always cold, as if any ounce of warmth might weaken her.
