By Sunday afternoon, Lauretta had almost convinced herself she had imagined the entire thing.

Not Elias.

Unfortunately, he was real.

She had his number.

He had hers.

And Nadia had spent the better part of two days reminding her of that fact.

But the feeling of Friday night had already begun to soften around the edges.

It was easier that way.

Lauretta liked things she could understand.

She liked schedules, quiet mornings, expensive coffee, and knowing exactly where she stood with people.

Elias was none of those things.

He was an unanswered question in a very well-tailored suit.

And she didn't like unanswered questions.

Her phone was beside her on the kitchen counter.

She glanced at it.

Nothing.

She looked away.

Then glanced again.

Still nothing.

"Pathetic," she muttered.

Her phone rang.

Nadia.

Lauretta answered.

"Hello."

"Have you heard from him?"

"Good afternoon to you too."

"That's not an answer."

"No."

There was silence.

Then—

"Interesting."

"What's interesting?"

"He hasn't texted you."

"No."

"And you're bothered."

"I'm not bothered."

"You're checking your phone."

"I am not."

"You just checked it."

Lauretta looked down.

Her phone was still in her hand.

She sighed.

"I hate you."

"I know."

They talked for another twenty minutes before Nadia finally hung up.

Lauretta placed her phone on the counter.

This time, she didn't look at it.

She went upstairs instead.

She changed into a white dress.

Then changed again.

Then decided she wasn't going anywhere.

She made tea.

Opened a book.

Read the same paragraph three times.

Finally, she closed it.

Her phone remained silent.

And strangely, that annoyed her more than it should have.

---

At 6:18 p.m., someone knocked on her door.

Lauretta frowned.

She wasn't expecting anyone.

When she opened it, there was a man standing outside holding a small white box.

"Ms. Lauretta?"

"Yes?"

"This was delivered for you."

She took it.

"Who sent it?"

The man checked his phone.

"Elias Vale."

Her heart did something incredibly inconvenient.

She closed the door.

Walked into the living room.

Put the box on the table.

Stared at it.

She didn't open it immediately.

Instead, she made herself wait.

Two minutes.

Then five.

Then she laughed at herself.

"Ridiculous."

She opened it.

Inside was her missing earring.

The one she'd thought she'd lost months ago.

Lauretta picked it up.

She stared at it.

Then noticed the note beneath it.

Four words.

I think this is yours.

She smiled.

That was it.

No flowers.

No ridiculous declaration.

No attempt to impress her.

Just her earring.

And somehow, that made it worse.

She picked up her phone.

Typed:

Thank you.

Deleted it.

Typed:

Where did you find this?

Deleted that too.

Finally:

You could have just texted me.

His reply came almost immediately.

I could have.

She waited.

Another message appeared.

But then I wouldn't have had an excuse to send someone to your door.

Lauretta laughed.

You're impossible.

Three dots.

You haven't known me long enough to say that.

She smiled.

Seven minutes, remember?

There was a pause.

Then:

I remember.

Something about those words made her stop.

She stared at the screen.

She didn't know why.

Perhaps it was the wording.

Perhaps it was simply the way he had said it.

She typed:

Goodnight, Elias.

This time, he didn't answer immediately.

A minute passed.

Then two.

Finally:

Goodnight, Lauretta.

She put the phone down.

And smiled.

---

Three weeks passed.

They didn't see each other.

Not because either of them wasn't interested.

Life simply had a way of being inconvenient.

Lauretta travelled for work.

Elias disappeared into meetings.

They exchanged messages occasionally.

Nothing serious.

Nothing that could be called a relationship.

Just small things.

A photograph of a ridiculous painting he'd seen in Paris.

A complaint from Lauretta about an awful hotel breakfast.

A song.

A joke.

A photograph of the sunset from his balcony.

Sometimes they spoke for hours.

Sometimes neither said anything for days.

It was strangely comfortable.

Then, on a Thursday evening, Lauretta received a message.

Not from Elias.

From Nadia.

Come to the gallery tonight.

Lauretta frowned.

Why?

The reply came almost immediately.

Just come.

She almost refused.

Then another message appeared.

Please.

So she went.

The gallery was crowded.

Music floated through the room, glasses clinked, and people moved between enormous photographs displayed against white walls.

Lauretta walked slowly through the exhibition.

She stopped in front of one.

A lake.

Quiet water.

A woman standing at the edge.

Something about it caught her attention.

She stepped closer.

The photograph was beautiful.

But there was something familiar about the woman.

Lauretta couldn't explain it.

She stared at her face.

Then looked at the small plaque beneath the photograph.

ELIAS VALE

Her breath caught.

She looked around the gallery.

And there he was.

Across the room.

Watching her.

He wasn't smiling.

Neither was she.

For a moment, neither moved.

Then Elias slowly walked toward her.

When he reached her, he looked at the photograph.

Then back at her.

"Do you like it?"

Lauretta nodded.

"Very much."

He looked at the photograph again.

"Good."

She turned toward him.

"You took this?"

"Yes."

"When?"

He hesitated.

"Quite a while ago."

She looked back at the woman.

There was something she couldn't shake.

Something about the photograph felt strangely personal.

She pointed toward it.

"Who is she?"

Elias didn't answer.

And for the first time since she'd met him, Lauretta saw something in his expression that she couldn't read.

Then he said quietly,

"I was hoping you wouldn't ask."

And suddenly, the evening didn't feel quite so ordinary anymore.