And then—

He ducks slightly to clear the doorway, broad shoulders filling the entrance like the space itself has decided to contract around him. He’s in civilian clothes—a simple dark coat, a loose grey scarf—but there’s no mistaking him. His presence is quiet, controlled, like the air has decided to behave differently.

The low hum of the café—the hiss of the espresso machine, the murmur of conversation—dips into a palpable, breath-held silence.