The first time I saw him, I assumed he was staring at someone behind me. That was my first mistake. I've been going to Greystone Café for eleven months." Same corner table. Same oat milk latte. Same routine, Tuesdays and Thursdays, every week. I liked clockwork. I liked knowing exactly what came next.
What came next was never supposed to be him.
He was sitting down two tables away from me, his laptop open and his coffee untouched. Dark blazer. Still hands. And when I finally accepted his eyes were on me, I didn't look away the way a normal person would.
He just held a look.
Like he has been waiting for me to notice him.
I looked down first which I hated.
You're sitting in my spot.
The words just came out of my mouth before I could stop them. It wasn't even entirely true there were no assigned seats. But something about his calmness irritated me in a way I couldn't place a name yet.
He looked up slowly at me, like he had all the time in the world.
Your name's on it? he asked, his voice was low and smooth. Unhurried. The kind of voice that filled the space without needing to be loud.
"Eleven months of Tuesdays and Thursdays," I said. "That's basically a lease." His mouth hinted at a smile. More like he'd filed the information away.
"Zara," he said.
I stilled.
"That's your name, huh? The barista said it when you came in."
I glanced toward the counter. Maya was already busy with the next order, completely unaware she'd just handed my name to a stranger like it was part of the menu.
It made sense.
It should have.
But something about how he said it still rubbed me the wrong way.
I turned back. And yours?
"Adrian."
Just that. No last name. Nice to meet you. As if the introduction had already been completed somewhere I hadn't been included.
I sat at the table next to him instead of arguing. I didn't know why. You're being ridiculous, I told myself, pulling out my laptop. He's just an annoying and irritating guy who doesn't understand social cues. But I noticed his coffee was still full and untouched.
Cold by now.
It felt like he'd been there ages, for no logical reason.
We didn't speak for forty minutes.
But I was aware of him the entire time. The specific quiet of him. The way he didn't shift in his seat or check his phone like everyone else. He just worked or seemed with a focus that felt almost deliberate.
Almost.
When I finally packed up to leave, he spoke without looking up.
"Same time Thursday?"
My coat was halfway on. I paused, fingers stilling against the fabric.
"Excuse me?"
"You said Tuesdays and Thursdays." Now he looked up. Calm. Direct. "I'll be here Thursday."
"That wasn't an invitation."
"I know." A beat. "It was an observation."
Something about how he said it made me feel weird inside.
Observation.
Not hope. Maybe I'll see you. Not anything soft or uncertain.
Just certainty.
Like the outcome was already decided.
The reasonable part of my brain said: weird guy, forget him.
The part I didn't entirely trust was already thinking about
Thursday.
That night, I opened my laptop and did what any sensible, independent woman with a healthy respect for her own boundaries does.
I Googled "Adrian" and the name of the café.
Nothing.
No social media. No tagged photos. No online presence that linked him to the café. I stared at the screen a bit too long. It shouldn't have bothered me, but it did.
I closed the laptop.
Good, I told myself. Forget it. Forget him.
I didn't forget him.
I had no idea that 40 minutes earlier, Adrian had closed his laptop on a file with my name staring back at him.
And a photograph of me.
Not recent.
Take
n months ago.
Somewhere I didn't remember being watched.