She arrived at the café just as the clock struck twelve. The blue door was slightly ajar, casting a warm, amber glow onto the wet pavement. Inside, the scent of roasting coffee and old books enveloped her. Julian was sitting at a corner table, a sketchbook open in front of him. He looked up, his eyes lighting up in a way that made Elara’s breath hitch. "You came," he whispered, his voice a low melody.
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