The café always felt different at night.
During the day it was loud. Cups clinking, people talking, phones ringing, chairs scraping against the floor. But after nine in the evening everything changed. The lights were softer. The voices quieter. The whole place felt like it was breathing slower.
That was the time Maya liked the most.
She stood behind the counter wiping the surface slowly while the coffee machine hummed beside her. The smell of roasted beans filled the air. Outside the large glass windows the street looked calm and almost empty.
Only a few customers were left.
One couple whispering over tea. A student typing on a laptop. And him.
He was sitting in his usual place near the window.
Adrian.
Maya did not know much about him. Not where he worked. Not where he lived. She o
