Whispers of the heart

around her, quickening her pace down the cobblestone path leading to The Wandering Heart Café. It was her favorite hideaway, espec

familiar comfort of the café eased her tension, and she relaxed into the calm buzz of low conversation and

use

rk hair that fell slightly across his forehead, eyes the color of storm clouds, and an apologetic smile

said, feeling a rush of emb

ice warm and surprisingly gentle. "Lost in thou

he same kind of retreat he seemed to be seeking in his worn pages. "I

the unspoken understanding of two strangers seeking refuge. Claire noticed the way h

she realized she was still standing awkwardly in his path. With a quick apolog

atching

ad settled over her. She hadn't come here looking for an encounter, and yet, she found hersel

g landscapes or the familiar still life she usually favored, she began sketching him-the shape of his jaw, the relaxed but thoughtful expression

he looked up, startled to see him there,

wing and..." He gestured, then a

finished portrait between them. But something about

replied, her voice

hbook, hiding her work, and looked up at him. He introduced himself as Daniel, and they began

words, like the room itself held its breath. The rain outside softene

quiet corner, she realized that sometimes, certain people entered your life not to change it but to make you see so

ances and soft words, knowing that neith