Somewhere around 9 PM, the conversation shifted — not in topic, but in temperature.
Daniel poured the last of the wine into her glass, and his fingers briefly touched hers on the stem of the bottle. He didn't move his hand away immediately. Neither did she.
"So," he said, his voice a little quieter now. "Was this what you expected?"
Maya considered the question seriously. "Honestly? No."
"Better or worse?"
She looked at him. "You tell me."
He smiled — and this time it came faster, like he wasn't trying to stop it. "Better," he said. "Significantly."
Outside the window, the river caught the light from the streetlamps. Inside, the café had grown quieter. Most of the other tables were empty now. Neither of them had noticed.
Maya realized she had been turning her bracelet around her wrist — a nervous habit. She stopped. He had noticed too. She could tell by the way his eyes moved, briefly, to her hand.

