Maya's POV
The moment I stepped into the café, I spotted Julian at our usual table. He'd clearly put effort into his appearance today—his hair was perfectly styled, he wore that crisp navy shirt that always brought out his eyes, and I caught a whiff of the expensive cologne he used to wear on special occasions. The careful attention to his appearance told me everything I needed to know about his intentions.
"Maya," he breathed, rising from his seat with practiced charm. He moved forward as if to kiss my cheek, but I deliberately stepped backward.
"Julian," I responded, my voice deliberately neutral as I took my seat without ceremony.
"You look incredible," he said, settling back into his chair with that familiar smile—the one that mixed wistfulness with barely concealed longing. "That dress is stunning on you."
"Thank you," I replied curtly, placing my purse on the table like a fortress wall between us.
