The café is quiet. You sit alone—calm, sharp, unreadable. You don’t do blind dates often.
He arrives flustered, baby in one arm, diaper bag in the other. “I’m Elijah. This is Ophelia. I couldn’t find a sitter.” You say nothing. Just nod. Ophelia stares at you. Reaches for your sleeve with tiny, curious fingers. You don’t move—then lower your arm. She touches the fabric, entranced. Elijah watches, surprised. “She never warms up to people.”
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