Manuscript I– The Unraveling

The café buzzed with the usual Parisian hum—murmurs of conversations, clinking cups, and the soft hiss of espresso machines. It was that time of day when the sunlight hit just right, casting golden hues across the marble tables and the scattered patrons sipping their afternoon coffees. But Lily wasn't looking at the world around her. No, her gaze was fixed on something—or, more precisely, someone—who had quietly inserted himself into the rhythm of her life without her permission.

Henri.

She hadn't expected to see him here today. After all, it was only a matter of time before his presence became a constant she could no longer ignore. Henri wasn't like the other men she'd encountered in Paris—there was something about him that made her feel both exposed and, oddly enough, safe. It didn't make sense. It didn't need to.

But there he was, sitting in the corner of the café, his long fingers wrapped around a steaming mug, his eyes distant, yet intense. It was as if he were waiting for something—someone. Waiting for her, perhaps?

"Henri," Lily called out, her voice a little more uncertain than she'd intended. She was good at keeping her cool, but Henri always had a way of throwing her off balance. He looked up, his gaze locking with hers. The world seemed to pause, the noise fading into the background.

"Lily," he replied smoothly, the smile that tugged at the corners of his lips doing nothing to calm the storm he'd stirred inside her. "I wasn't expecting you. Come join me?"

Lily hesitated. She had made it a point to keep her distance from Henri, to guard her heart as carefully as she could. But as she approached his table, her body moved almost of its own accord, pulled in by the gravity of his presence.

Sitting down across from him, she took a breath and tried to act casual. "I didn't expect to find you here either," she said, her fingers tapping nervously against the rim of her coffee cup.

Henri studied her with that steady, calculating gaze of his, as though he were trying to see through the layers she so carefully constructed. "You're distracted," he observed. "Something's on your mind."

Lily stilled. She had hoped he wouldn't notice. The last thing she wanted was for Henri to see through the cracks in her composure. But there was something about him that made it impossible to hide. The way he could read her without even trying made her want to both run away and lean closer at the same time.

"I'm just... thinking," she said, the words coming out more clipped than she intended. "About my grandfather. I haven't heard from him in weeks. I'm starting to get worried."

At the mention of her grandfather, Henri's expression softened, just slightly, but it was enough to make Lily's chest tighten. Henri wasn't one to give sympathy freely. But when he did, it felt like a quiet promise.

"I'm sure he's fine," he said, though his voice lacked the usual bravado. It was rare for Henri to let his guard down, but when it came to Lily, he always seemed to let her in, just a little more than he should.

"I hope so," she murmured, staring into her coffee. The words felt hollow, more like a wish than a truth. The thought of her grandfather, the man who had always been her anchor, slipping further away made her feel unmoored, lost in a city that felt colder with each passing day.

Henri's voice cut through her thoughts. "You're going to find him. Whatever it takes. You don't give up on people you care about, Lily."

She met his gaze then, the weight of his words hanging in the air. There was a resolve in his eyes that made her heart race, something fierce and raw that she hadn't expected. It was the first time Henri had spoken to her like this, like he truly believed in her, like he had faith that she could do more than just survive.

Lily shifted uncomfortably in her seat, the sudden closeness between them making her pulse quicken. She had spent so long keeping everyone at arm's length, refusing to let anyone in, but Henri… Henri had a way of cracking open those walls, piece by piece.

"I don't know if I can do this alone," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

"You don't have to," Henri said, his tone steady, as if the very idea of her facing this on her own was absurd. "I'm here."

The simplicity of his words hit her harder than she expected. She swallowed, trying to keep her emotions in check. She wasn't ready for this—wasn't ready for someone to be here for her in a way that felt real. Henri was dangerous in that way. He made her feel things she didn't want to feel.

But here, in the soft light of the café, with his eyes still locked on hers, she couldn't help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, she could trust him. Trust him enough to let him help her find the answers she was desperate for.

Henri didn't say anything more, but the weight of his presence was enough. It was everything. And for the first time in weeks, Lily allowed herself to believe that maybe, just maybe, she wasn't as alone as she thought.