The car rolls to a stop in front of the cafe.
The signboard swings gently overhead, strung with warm lights and small flowers. The glow is soft, almost delicate. The evening air smells of fresh flowers.
I step out.
The pavement clicks softly beneath my shoes. Silas steps out too. The door closes behind him with a soft, solid thud.
He follows me.
His fingers are still on the pearls at his neck.
The same movement. Over and over. His thumb rolling across each one—then back again. A quiet rhythm.
Maybe the thousandth time since we left the jewelry shop. Maybe more.
I glance at him.
A soft smile still rests on his lips. Not the polite one he gives strangers. Not the careful one from the wedding. Something else. Unguarded.
It's been there since we left—since I fastened the clasp at the back of his neck, since the pearls settled against his collarbone like they belonged there.
He hasn't stopped smiling. For no reason I can understand.
He's lost his mind.
I look away. Annoying.
