The café falls into an uneasy quiet after Lucas finishes his coffee and Marlene clears the plates. Alexander is gone—for now—but his presence lingers like smoke after a fire, acrid and impossible to ignore. I can still feel the cold knot of anxiety in my stomach, the echo of my body remembering what my mind cannot.
Sophie has been uncharacteristically silent since Lucas arrived. She sits in the booth across from me, her butter knife still clutched in one hand, her eyes fixed on the door where Alexander disappeared. Her usual chaotic energy is gone, replaced by something harder and sharper. Kevin watches her with quiet concern, his fingers hovering over his keyboard but not typing.
"Sophie," I say gently. "Are you okay?"
She doesn't answer immediately. When she finally speaks, her voice is low and trembling with barely contained fury.
"I hate him."
"I know."
