She leaned in, the scent of rain and vanilla clinging to her. "He can take your weekends. He can take your sleep. He can even take your pride if you let him."
"Julian, look at me," she said, her voice steady. "Chris De Wit is a man who built a skyscraper around his heart so he wouldn't have to feel the wind. He wants you to live in that same dark room." No Dejes De Besarme Por Culpa D Chris De Wit ...
The rain in Amsterdam didn’t just fall; it blurred the world into a watercolor of greys and neon reflections. Inside the small, dimly lit café, Elena sat across from Julian, the silence between them heavier than the storm outside. She leaned in, the scent of rain and vanilla clinging to her
She bridged the final inch between them, her lips brushing against his. Julian froze, the phantom voice of his boss echoing in his head, preaching about discipline and the weakness of sentiment. He can even take your pride if you let him
The tension in Julian’s shoulders snapped. The ghost of the office, the blueprints, and the cold, judgmental eyes of Chris De Wit faded into the background noise of the clinking spoons and the pouring rain.