Andres stood in the museum atrium, pretending to admire the marble statue in front of him, but really, he was watching her reflection in the glass.
Thana was talking to a student near the fountain — a young violinist, bright-eyed, asking for advice. Her posture was polite. Her smile was tight.
She hated being asked for advice. She'd said so on their third coffee.
He liked knowing that. Liked knowing things no one else did.
She noticed him a minute later. Didn't smile — but walked straight toward him.
"You're following me now?"
"I was here first."
"That's what stalkers say."
He smirked. "You're not frightened."
She looked up at him — really looked. "No. That's what frightens me."
They wandered through the museum together. Quiet. Intimate. Surrounded by people and yet sealed off from all of them.
In the painting gallery, she paused in front of a piece of violent abstraction — all jagged reds and black.
"Reminds me of your writing," she said.
"In what way?"
"It's beautiful. But if I stared too long, I think I'd lose my mind."