Chapter 1 : THE FIRST ME
Rain in Verin City never arrived gently.
It either stayed away... or came hard enough to drown everything in its path.
That night, it chose the latter.
The clock read 11:47 PM.
Rain poured over the city, turning streets into mirrors of blurred lights. People rushed for shelter, and even the most expensive cars were forced to pause.
But inside The Moonwake Café... it was different.
Warm lights. Old wooden chairs. Soft music.
And a kind of silence that didn't feel empty-just... heavy.
Eira stood behind the counter, cleaning the same cup over and over again.
Not because it needed cleaning.
Because it gave her something to do.
She liked places like this.
Quiet. Simple. Away from people-and the questions they carried.
Silence never judged her.
Maybe that's why she noticed him the second he walked in.
The door opened, letting in a gust of rain-and him.
Men like him didn't belong here.
He looked like someone people waited for.
The kind of man who didn't adjust to rooms-rooms adjusted to him.
Not someone who walked into a small café with worn-out chairs and cheap lights.
He wore black. Rain clung to his sleeves.
His face was calm... but not warm. His eyes-sharp, observant-like they didn't just see people, they read them.
He stepped up to the counter.
"One black coffee."
His voice was low. Controlled.
Not a request. Something closer to a quiet command.
Eira looked at him for a moment.
"Only black coffee?"
His gaze met hers, steady and unblinking.
"Should I order something more complicated?"
She placed the cup down slowly.
"I thought rich people liked complicated things."
For the first time, something shifted in his expression.
Barely noticeable-but it was there.
"And I thought café owners asked fewer questions."
Eira leaned slightly against the counter, unfazed.
"And I thought arrogant men preferred bigger places."
Silence followed.
Not awkward. Not light.
Sharp. Like something unseen had just been drawn between them.
He picked up the cup.
Maybe he expected something average.
A forgettable place. A forgettable drink.
He took a sip-
-and paused.
The coffee was perfect.
Warm. Strong. Balanced in a way that didn't try too hard.
For a second, there was something in his eyes. Surprise, maybe.
And he didn't like it.
Men like him weren't used to being wrong.
He set the cup down, his expression returning to that same unreadable calm.
"This place is too quiet."
Eira crossed her arms lightly.
"Most people call that peace."
He looked at her again, more carefully this time.
"Silence isn't peace.
People just call it that when they're too tired to fight anymore."
The words lingered.
Because people who carried storms in their eyes usually understood silence better than anyone else.
After a moment, he spoke again.
"What's your name?"
Eira's fingers stilled.
Names could be dangerous.
They made things real.
But she answered anyway.
"Eira."
He repeated it once. Slowly.
As if committing it to memory.
Then he placed the money on the counter and turned toward the door.
No name.
No goodbye.
Just distance.
The door closed behind him, the sound soft but final.
Eira stood there, staring at it longer than she should have.
And somewhere deep inside, a quiet voice whispered-
Be careful.
Some storms don't pass.
They stay
Next draft coming soon
