That night, the rain had just stopped. The streets shimmered with reflections of city lights on the wet pavement. Vania walked quickly, hiding her face beneath a black umbrella. She had chosen a place far from the crowds—a small corner café that was rarely visited.

Inside, only a few empty tables remained. The scent of coffee mingled with the damp smell of wet wood. Vania sat in the farthest corner, waiting anxiously. Her chest tightened with every creak of the café door.

Before long, Arga arrived. His gray suit was slightly damp from the lingering drizzle. He removed his coat and made his way straight to Vania’s table.

“Sorry to...