Chapter 31. Glass Heart

They met on neutral ground this time—no glossy studios, no glass-walled offices, no branded spaces whose logos hung like silent judges on the walls. Instead, Alyssa had chosen a small café tucked away in an old quarter of the city, squeezed between a bookstore’s weathered façade and a florist whose blossoms spilled onto the uneven sidewalk.

The yellowed cobblestones beneath their feet were cracked and dusty; overhead, an awning sagged with age. From inside came the hiss of an espresso machine, punctuated by the soft clink of porcelain cups on saucers and the murmur of people lingering over lunch. Everything about the place felt alive with history, worn smooth by decades of patrons and conversation.

Alyssa arrived early, slipping through the café door before Max. The breeze that followed her in carried the scent of rain on pavement, the weight of clouds yet to break. She settled into a wooden chair at a corner table by the window, where streaks of afternoon light slanted