The soft hum of jazz seeped through the dimly lit café, blending with the quiet murmurs of late-night patrons. Elias sat alone, fingers resting against his temple as he absentmindedly traced patterns onto the rim of his cup. His laptop lay open beside him—a muted glow casting shadows across his sharp features. He wasn’t working. Not really. Y/N slid into the seat across from him without hesitation. No greeting, no formalities—just presence. Elias exhaled, tilting his head slightly. Youre late.
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