The Man She Was Never Meant to Love
The café smelled of roasted coffee beans and cinnamon, a comforting scent that wrapped around her like a warm embrace. It was a quiet afternoon, the kind of peaceful lull she usually cherished, but today, her mind was anything but calm.
She sat at her usual corner table, a worn-out novel open in front of her, fingers resting lightly against the yellowed pages. She should have been reading—getting lost in the words like she always did. But she hadn't turned a page in ten minutes.
Because across the room, he was there.
Lucien.
She knew she shouldn't look. Shouldn't watch the way his fingers curled around his coffee cup, the way his sharp jaw tensed in thought, the way his dark eyes flickered with something unreadable as he listened to Camille speak.
Her sister sat beside him, radiant as always, laughing lightly, her voice carrying through the café. Camille had a way of demanding attention without ever needing to ask for it. She was beautiful, confident, effortless. And Lucien, as always, was right there by her side.
They looked perfect together. They were supposed to be perfect together.
So why did it hurt so much to watch?
She curled her fingers into her palm, willing the feeling away. It wasn't real. It was just an infatuation—a stupid, impossible thing that had festered inside her for too long.
Three years.
Three years of pretending.
Three years of pushing down the ache that settled deep in her chest every time she saw them together.
She had spent too long being invisible to the people around her. Her family barely noticed her, her presence little more than an afterthought. Camille was the golden daughter, the one who could do no wrong, the one who was always admired. She had countless friends, an effortless charm, and a presence that filled a room. Their parents adored her. Everyone adored her.
And Lucien…
Lucien was the only one she had ever looked at the way a woman looks at a man she could love.
A shadow moved in front of her, breaking her trance.
"Are you just going to keep staring?"
She blinked, her heart lurching as she turned toward the voice. Noah.
He stood beside her table, one brow raised, his signature smirk tugging at his lips. Unlike Lucien, who carried an air of quiet intensity, Noah was light, easygoing. He had a way of making things feel simple, even when they weren't. His golden-brown hair was slightly tousled, as if he had just run a hand through it moments ago, and his eyes—warm, teasing—held a knowing glint.
She sighed, slumping slightly in her chair. "I wasn't staring."
Noah huffed a laugh and slid into the seat across from her. "Right. And I wasn't just watching you watch him."
Her cheeks burned. She hated how transparent she was, especially to Noah. He had always been able to read her too well.
"Does it ever get tiring?" he asked, leaning back and crossing his arms.
"What?"
"Loving someone who doesn't see you."
The words hit her harder than she wanted to admit. She looked down at her book, fingers tightening on the edges of the pages. "I don't—"
"Don't lie." His voice was softer now. "Not to me."
She swallowed. There was no use denying it, not when Noah had always seen the truth she tried to bury.
"It doesn't matter," she muttered. "He's with Camille."
Noah exhaled slowly. "And yet, you look at him like he's your entire world."
She flinched, her heart squeezing painfully in her chest.
It wasn't fair. She didn't want to feel this way. She didn't want to love someone who would never be hers.
Noah sighed and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "You deserve better than this. Than unspoken feelings and a love you can never have."
She forced a small, brittle smile. "Maybe some people aren't meant for more."
His brows pulled together, frustration flickering across his face. "That's not true, and you know it."
Before she could respond, something shifted in the air.
A familiar warmth prickled against her skin.
She didn't need to look to know that he had turned his gaze on her.
Her pulse stuttered as she lifted her eyes, and there he was—Lucien, his dark gaze locked onto hers from across the café.
The world seemed to tilt for a fraction of a second.
He wasn't supposed to look at her like that. Not with hesitation. Not with something unreadable flickering behind his eyes.
But he did.
And in that fleeting moment, her carefully built walls cracked.
Because for the first time, she allowed herself to wonder—what if he saw her, too?
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