The bistro was tucked just far enough off the main road to feel like a secret.
Dim pendant lights swung gently overhead, casting soft glows on worn wood tables.
The clink of silverware and quiet murmur of conversation filled the space—not loud, not rushed. Just right.
They slid into a booth near the window.
Luca dropped his bag to the side and leaned back like he'd been holding in tension for hours.
Noel took the seat across from him, his fingers lightly brushing the menu though his eyes weren't on it.
"Feels weird," Noel murmured.
"What does?" Luca asked, already glancing at the drinks list.
"Not being judged," he said. "Or measured. Or… scanned."
Luca looked up, one brow raised. "You think they stopped measuring the moment we walked out?"
Noel smiled faintly. "Don't ruin it for me."
"Fair." Luca tapped his knuckles once on the table. "Still… you did great."
"You keep saying that," Noel said, peeking up. "Almost like you mean it."
