POV: Miguel 

“Is this seat taken?” I asked her with a smile on my face. I didn’t even need to ask that because I’d seen her walk into the restaurant alone and sad. I pulled out the seat next to her and I sat on it, looking into her teary eyes.

She ran a hand through her hair, the soft, luxurious fabric of her dress a stark contrast to the storm brewing within her. The tears had stopped, but the ache in her chest lingered. 

It’s Raphael!

It’s got to be Raphael, I’m sure of it. He had been so cold, so dismissive. I’ve heard stories about him, I know...