[Meteor Café, 1:20 PM]
The following day, Selina headed straight to the café, careful to wear a black mask that shielded her usual makeup, her curly brown hair pulled neatly into a ponytail. She looked entirely different from the day before—intentionally unrecognizable, almost like a secret agent.
Her cinnamon eyes were locked on the entrance, calm and composed, betraying no hint of impatience or panic. She had always been patient when it came to waiting for those who truly mattered.
Relief glimmered in her eyes as she saw a man in his mid-fifties, the same age as her father, stride into the café in a light blue suit. He froze briefly, scanning the room as if struggling to locate the young woman he had come to meet.
The café, small yet warm, enveloped Selina in a quiet serenity. She removed her mask and waved, giving him a clear view of her face.
Without hesitation, he approached her.
"Good afternoon, Uncle William," she greeted, meeting his outraged eyes.
