Noah pulled the hood of his black hoodie a little lower, shielding his face from the bright city lights spilling through the restaurant's large windows. The evening rush had just begun, and the polished marble floors echoed softly beneath the footsteps of the wealthy crowd.
He wiped down a table by the corner, careful not to catch anyone's eye. It was his first job in college—working at Le Ciel, a fancy restaurant where the city's rich came to eat and be seen. Most nights, Noah felt invisible, blending into the background like another shadow.
"Table seven needs refilling," the manager called out without looking at him. Noah grabbed a fresh bottle of sparkling water, moving silently between tables dressed in their designer clothes, laughing softly and whispering secrets Noah would never understand.
He kept his head down, his quiet world shrinking smaller with every passing minute. It wasn't the life he dreamed of, but it paid the bills.
Just as he was finishing a tray, the door swung open.
A cold breeze swept in, carrying with it the faint scent of expensive perfume and something sharper—power.
Noah glanced up instinctively.
There, framed by the glowing streetlights, stood Seraphine. Her silver hair caught the light like liquid moonlight, and her green eyes scanned the room with the confidence of someone used to being the center of attention.
She was taller than most, her heels clicking purposefully against the floor as she made her way inside. The room seemed to hold its breath.
Noah's heart skipped.
She hadn't seen him yet.