Chapter 2 – The Restless Night
The night after the rain, Adrian couldn’t sleep. He lay in the dim glow of his apartment, staring at the ceiling as the city outside hummed faintly with distant engines and the occasional bark of a stray dog. Usually, silence was his ally, but tonight it felt heavier, almost suffocating.
Every time he closed his eyes, the image returned — her damp hair framing her face, the curve of her small smile, the softness of her voice when she asked for the seat. He didn’t even know her name, yet she lingered in his thoughts with a persistence that unsettled him.
Adrian rolled to his side, exhaling sharply. Why hadn’t he asked? Why had he let her walk out with only the words “Maybe someday we’ll meet again” to hold on to? He had spoken to countless people in his life, but never had a conversation so brief felt so significant.
By morning, his restlessness became action. Almost instinctively, he returned to Lentera Senja. The streets were washed clean by the storm, puddles glimmering in the early light. The café smelled of roasted beans and freshly baked bread as he stepped inside, the bell above the door chiming just as it had the day before.
He scanned the room. Empty faces, strangers, laughter that didn’t belong to her. She wasn’t there.
He sat at his usual spot by the window, ordered his black coffee, and opened his book. But the words blurred, unread. His gaze kept drifting to the door, each time it opened sending a flicker of hope through him. Yet with every new customer, hope dissolved into the bitter taste of disappointment.
The next day he returned. And the day after that. Three days passed, and still, no sign of her.
On the fourth day, Adrian questioned himself. What am I doing? Waiting for someone whose name I don’t even know? He had never been the type to chase after fleeting encounters, never believed in fate or chance meetings. And yet here he was, tethered to a moment that refused to let go.
That evening, as the sun dipped into the horizon, painting the sky in amber hues, Adrian left the café with his shoulders heavy. At the corner of the street, he stopped and pulled out a small notebook from his coat pocket. He had carried it for years, a habit born from the need to quiet his thoughts when they grew too loud.
He flipped it open and wrote, the words flowing without thought:
“She walked away with the rain, but her presence remains, like a shadow that refuses to fade.”
His pen hovered, then pressed again:
“I don’t know her name, yet I know the silence she left behind.”
Adrian closed the notebook, slipped it back into his pocket, and exhaled deeply.
He told himself he should move on. That this was nothing more than a fleeting encounter, a trick of the heart. But deep down, something resisted. It wasn’t over. Not yet. Something about her presence had carved itself into him, and no amount of reason could erase it.
Adrian didn’t know it then, but this was the beginning of a story far greater than he could imagine.
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