By nine, Luke arrived at a fashionable little café in Arcadia's central district. Sunlight filtered through pastel awnings, glinting off a glass display of decadent ice creams.
The entire place gave off a cozy, romantic vibe, perfect for a sweet morning date.
Hazel Ross greeted him, wearing a simple, flowy dress and a gentle smile that made his heart skip a beat. She had recovered fully from the city's turmoil, her face glowing with relief that the crisis was over.
"Luke," she said softly, reaching for his hand. "I've been waiting a bit, but it's okay. This place is lovely."
He squeezed her hand, guiding her to a table near the window. "Glad you like it. I tried their strawberry swirl last time—delicious."
The hour passed in blissful warmth. They laughed, shared stories, teased each other about the comedic fiascos of the plague fiasco.
