Hazel’s POV
The small restaurant on the corner of the city felt calm this afternoon, as if none of the guests had any idea how intense the conversation would soon become at table number seven. I sat there alone, staring at my phone screen, my fingers slightly trembling.Andrian’s number was still displayed. I had already pressed the green button, and the long dial tone made my heart beat faster."Hello?""Andrian. We need to talk."There was a pause, as if he was weighing something."Where?"I mentioned the name of the restaurant. He simply replied, “Half an hour.”After the call ended, I took a deep breath, trying to calm the erratic pounding of my heart. That short call carried far too much tension—and far too many memories. My left hand still held the phone, while my right gripped the corner of the table, cold and slick from the sweat on my palm.I looked out the window. The sky was bright this afternoon, in stark cont
