Chapter One – The Stranger in the Smoke

Lucien didn’t like being seen. Not really. Not the way some men in his position did—suits, watches, power on display. No, he preferred the corners. The low light. The silence between songs.

That night, Halcyon was quiet enough to think, but not quiet enough to feel alone. The kind of place where people came to forget or be forgotten. He liked that. He liked the blur of it.

He was on his second glass of scotch when she walked in.

And just like that, everything in the room pulled a little tighter.

She didn’t look around when she entered—didn’t need to. She moved like someone who already knew where all the exits were. She wore black. Not the kind that tried too hard. Just… simple. Clean. The kind of black that made the rest of the world look too loud.

Lucien told himself he wasn’t staring.

He was.

She took the stool next to his. Ordered something he didn’t catch. Didn’t look at him once. But she knew he was there. He was sure of it. You could feel it, like static in the air between them.

He waited a minute. Maybe two. Then—

“Long day?” he asked, voice casual.

She turned toward him slightly, eyes unreadable.

“Aren’t they all?”

He smiled, tapping the rim of his glass.

“Fair enough. Though some drag harder than others.”

She looked at him for a moment.

“And this one?”

“This one’s not done dragging yet.”

A pause.

She nodded once, slow.

“Yeah. I know the feeling.”

Lucien leaned back slightly, letting the silence breathe between them.

Then he asked,

“You come here often?”

She gave him a half-smile, tired but not unfriendly.

“Not really. Just needed somewhere quiet.”

“Quiet’s getting harder to find.”

“So is real conversation,” she said.

“People talk a lot, but they don’t say much.”

He chuckled softly.

“And here I was about to ask your name.”

She looked at him, thoughtful.

“Maybe ask something else instead.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Alright. What would you be doing right now, if the world didn’t expect anything from you?”

Her lips parted, surprised. That wasn’t what she expected.

She glanced away, then back.

“I think I’d be somewhere by the ocean. Somewhere quiet. No clocks. No phones.”

Lucien nodded slowly.

“That sounds... nice.”

She looked at him for a second longer, then stood.

“Maybe I’ll see you around.”

He didn’t stop her. Just lifted his glass slightly.

“I’ll be here.”

She hesitated—barely a second—but he noticed.

Then she turned and walked out, the night swallowing her whole.

Outside, the rain had stopped. But the storm had only begun.

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...--will she come back again??--...

Authors note:-

This is the first time I am writing something if there is something wrong in it, you can tell me.I will try to updated as fast as possible. Thank youu😊

Chapter Two – You Could Almost Call It Coincidence

Lucien showed up the next night.

He told himself it was just a convenient spot. Familiar. Comfortable. He even convinced himself for a few minutes that he might leave early.

But when she walked in—same black coat, same calm like she carried her own silence—he knew damn well why he was really there.

She didn’t look surprised to see him. Didn’t smile, either. Just took the seat next to him like she was picking up a conversation they hadn’t finished.

For a while, neither of them said anything.

Then—

“You always drink scotch?” she asked, nodding toward his glass.

Lucien glanced down at it, then back at her.

“Only when I want to remember something. Or forget something.”

She huffed a quiet breath through her nose. Almost a laugh.

“That covers most nights, doesn’t it?”

“More than I care to admit.”

She took a sip of her own drink. He still didn’t know what it was. She hadn’t told him. And weirdly, he didn’t mind.

“You always come alone?” he asked.

“Always,” she said, without hesitation.

“People tend to ask questions when they stick around too long.”

“And you don’t like questions?”

She shrugged.

“I like quiet more.”

There was something in her voice—not sharp, not cold—but practiced. Controlled. Like someone who used to be soft but had learned to tuck that softness somewhere nobody could reach it.

Lucien studied her face for a second longer than he should have. She caught it.

“You staring, or just thinking too loud?”

He smirked, looked away.

“Bit of both.”

She leaned back slightly, eyes on him now.

“What do you think I do?”

That caught him off guard.

“What?”

“You’ve been watching. Don’t pretend you haven’t. So what’s your guess?”

Lucien tilted his glass in a small circle, thinking.

“You don’t look bored. That rules out most office jobs. You sit like someone who doesn’t get surprised often, and you walk like you’ve been followed before.”

A beat. She didn’t confirm or deny anything.

“So?” she asked.

“So… something quiet. Something dangerous.”

Her eyes didn’t change.

“Interesting guess.”

“Am I wrong?”

She didn’t answer.

Instead, she asked,

“What about you? What do you do when you’re not drinking scotch and psychoanalyzing strangers?”

Lucien smiled faintly.

“I make messes.”

“And clean them up?”

“Depends on the mess.”

That got the first real laugh from her. It was small, but it was real.

They sat like that a while longer. Not saying much. Letting the space between them fill with unspoken things.

Eventually, she checked her phone. The screen lit her face just enough for him to notice the tiniest scar near her jawline. He hadn’t seen it the night before.

She stood.

“Same time tomorrow?”

Lucien nodded.

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

She gave him a look—half curious, half warning—and left without another word.

Lucien stayed.

For once, he didn’t feel like he was waiting for something to go wrong.

That worried him more than anything else.

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...--What will this lead to?--...

Chapter Three – Somewhere Between Smoke and Silence

The third night, it rained.

Not a soft drizzle—the kind you could ignore—but a steady, soaking downpour that blurred the streetlights and turned the city into something softer. More forgiving.

Lucien was already at the bar when she walked in, water trailing down the edges of her coat. Her hair was damp at the ends. She looked like she’d come through something and hadn’t decided yet if she’d made it.

She sat beside him without a word. He slid her a napkin without looking.

“You always show up early?” she asked, voice low.

“Only when I’m not sure you will.”

She smiled at that. Just a little. The kind of smile you catch in a rearview mirror and don’t mention out loud.

They drank in quiet for a while, the rain tapping against the windows like it had something to say.

“What do you think people would see,” she said suddenly, “if they looked at us right now?”

Lucien tilted his head.

“A man and a woman drinking in silence. Two strangers, maybe.”

She shook her head.

“No. I think they’d see two people trying not to say something.”

He didn’t answer right away.

Then, softly—

“What would you say, if you could?”

She turned her glass in her hands.

“That some nights feel heavier than others. And I don't always know what to do with the weight.”

Lucien looked down at the scotch in his glass.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “I know that feeling.”

It wasn’t flirting. It wasn’t confessional. It was just… honest. The kind of thing you say when you forget you’re supposed to be a version of yourself.

She asked him about music next. What he listened to when no one was around.

“Old jazz,” he said.

“Stuff with ghosts in it.”

She laughed under her breath.

“That’s a good answer.”

“What about you?”

“Classical,” she said, surprising him. “Late at night. Violins. Cellos. Something with ache.”

“You listen to ache?”

She gave him a sideways glance.

“You drink it.”

That made him laugh. A real one this time.

They didn’t talk about where they went when they left the bar. Or who they were before the drinks and the dim lights. That was the unspoken rule—no names, no pasts. Just the now.

But when they stepped outside into the rain, something shifted.

She paused under the awning, watching the street like it might say something if she waited long enough.

“I could walk you home,” Lucien offered.

She looked at him. Really looked. As if trying to see beneath the offer.

“I can handle myself.”

“I know.”

A beat.

“But maybe I don’t want to.”

That stilled her.

Not a romantic gesture. Not a move. Just a truth, placed gently between them.

She didn’t say yes. Didn’t say no either. Just started walking, slow, and didn’t tell him to stay behind.

They walked in silence for blocks. Side by side. Not touching. The city breathing around them. The rain softening everything it touched.

At her corner, she stopped.

“Thank you,” she said, voice barely above the hush of water.

“For what?”

She hesitated.

“For not asking too much.”

Lucien looked at her for a long moment. His collar soaked. His pulse loud in his chest.

“Sometimes silence says more anyway.”

She nodded once. A slow, heavy blink. Then turned and disappeared into the building.

Lucien stood there for a while, letting the rain soak into his bones.

He didn’t know her name.

But he knew the sound of her silence.

And it was starting to feel a lot like home.

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...-Maybe a hug wouldn't be bad, what do you say?-...