The morning sunlight spilled across Eldraven's cobblestone streets, catching the dew on the flower petals outside the little café. Nivara hesitated at the doorway, taking a deep breath before stepping inside. The warmth of the coffee and the soft hum of conversation welcomed her, but her eyes were already drawn to the flowers—the same corner of blooms that had always followed her. Today, one bouquet stood out: pale peach roses intertwined with white lilies. Fresh, vibrant, and impossible to ignore.
She felt a flutter in her chest and a quiet smile tugged at her lips. The envelope from yesterday was still tucked safely in her bag, though she hadn't dared to open it again. Somehow, it didn't feel necessary. Yesterday had been enough—enough to leave her heart racing and her mind swirling with questions.
Sliding into her usual seat by the window, she traced the petals with her eyes without touching them, careful not to disturb the fragile beauty. Every day, she wondered who placed these flowers here and why they always appeared in just the right spot. Somehow, they felt like messages, gentle nudges from a world she didn't fully understand yet.
A quiet voice startled her from her thoughts.
"Mind if I join you?"
She looked up and froze for a moment. There he was—Sorven. Taller than anyone she'd ever seen, his presence filling the room without effort. His dark hair caught the sunlight streaming through the window, and his amber eyes glimmered like molten gold. For a heartbeat, Nivara forgot to breathe.
"I… no, of course not," she stammered, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
Sorven's smile was easy, teasing, like he knew exactly how she felt. "I was hoping I'd find you here again."
She felt her cheeks warm, the edges of her lips curling involuntarily. There was something about the way he looked at her—intense, almost overwhelming, but never crossing the line. It was like he could see her entirely, every thought tucked behind her careful composure.
For a while, they sat in companionable silence, sipping coffee, watching the sunlight shift across the flowers. Sorven reached subtly, brushing his fingers against hers when passing the sugar packet. Nivara's pulse quickened. A simple touch, but it carried weight, electricity that left her breathless.
"You really love these flowers, don't you?" he asked softly, nodding toward the blooms outside the window.
Nivara nodded, careful not to move too close to the petals. "I do. They're… comforting, somehow. I like to watch them grow, even if I don't know who leaves them."
Sorven's lips curved into a teasing smirk. "Maybe someone wants you to notice them… and someone wants to notice you too."
Her stomach fluttered, heart leaping in a way that made her fingers tighten around her cup. "Do you mean that?" she asked, her voice barely audible.
" I always mean what I say," he replied softly, leaning slightly closer. The warmth of him, so near, was intoxicating. Nivara felt her pulse spike, caught somewhere between curiosity, desire, and the faintest touch of nervousness she couldn't explain.
The conversation drifted naturally from books to small town quirks to favorite coffee flavors. Every now and then, Sorven's gaze would linger on her lips, or his fingers would brush hers, tiny gestures that made her chest ache and her thoughts scatter. She realized, with a mix of delight and nervousness, that she was enjoying his company far more than she should—enjoying it too much.
At one point, she laughed at a story he told about a mischievous cat in the square. He reached instinctively, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, and the touch lingered just long enough for her to feel it in her bones. Her fingers twitched, almost wanting to reach out and grab his hand, but she hesitated, unsure if she was ready.
"You have a nice laugh," he said softly, amber eyes fixed on her. "I could listen to it all day."
Her breath hitched, a shy warmth blooming across her face. "You flatter too easily," she whispered, though the corners of her lips curved into a genuine smile.
Sorven leaned back slightly, playful but commanding, the kind of presence that made her heart beat faster without saying a word. "Not flattery," he said, voice low, teasing. "Observation."
The morning passed in a blur, sunlight fading slowly, shadows stretching across the café floor. Nivara realized she hadn't even opened her book, nor had she noticed the time slipping away. Everything felt suspended, delicate, like the quiet tension of petals before a storm.
As she prepared to leave, Sorven stood beside her. "Tomorrow, same time?" he asked casually, though his tone carried something stronger, something that made her chest tighten.
Nivara hesitated for a moment, heart fluttering. Then she nodded, softly, "Okay… fine," though inside, a whisper of doubt made her stomach twist. She left the café, the sunlight warm on her face and the scent of flowers lingering faintly in the air.
Halfway down the cobblestone street, a thought stopped her in her tracks. Wait… why did I say yes? The memory of his intense amber gaze and teasing smile made her heart race. She turned, stepping back toward the café, determined to tell him "no," to clarify her hesitation.
But when she entered, the table was empty. The chair he had sat in was still slightly pulled out, the cup of coffee left untouched—but there was no sign of him anywhere.
Her heart skipped. A strange chill ran down her spine despite the warm morning sun. Where could he have gone? she wondered, a knot of curiosity and unease forming in her chest. She wanted to stay away, to put some distance between them, but no matter how hard she tried, she felt drawn to him—pulled by something she couldn't name, something impossible to resist.
And as she lingered there, the murmur of the café fading into the background, a thought unsettled her: he had been there just moments ago, and now… he was gone, leaving only questions that seemed to follow her like shadows.
But the main questions were "who is he?" Why she was being so "comfortable yet anxious around him" and "where he vanished"?