Mine to Keep
The faint smirk that said he already knew what I’d do before I did it.
It wasn’t attraction. Not exactly.
It was something deeper, darker.
When I finally crawl into bed, the clock reads a little after midnight. The room feels too still, like it’s holding its breath.
Across the room, the card lies on the counter, catching a thin slice of moonlight.
And for one impossible second, I swear it glints — like an eye.
Caine
The city is quieter after rain.
The streets gleam silver under streetlights, cars hissing past like whispers. I park where I can still see the café’s windows, watching people laugh inside, their movements soft through the glass. But not her. She’s gone.