The canals of Venice shimmered under the soft glow of the streetlights, their reflections rippling across the water's surface.

The scent of the sea blended with the rich aroma of espresso and freshly baked pastries, creating an atmosphere that was uniquely Venetian.

Tucked away in one of Venice's quieter alleys, Caffè Sombra was a forgotten secret, known only to the locals.

Its wooden interiors, dim lighting, and the distant melody of a violin gave it an air of mystery, as if it existed in a time of its own.

Siaara wiped the counter absentmindedly, lost in thought. The murmur of customers, the clinking of spoons against porcelain, the occasional burst of laughter—these sounds had become the rhythm of her life. Predictable. Comfortable.

Until he walked in.

The bell above the door chimed softly. It was a sound she heard a hundred times a day, yet something about it felt different this time.

The air in the café thickened, the background noise fading into an eerie stillness. Even the water in the canal outside seemed unnaturally calm.

Siaara's gaze flickered toward the entrance.

A man stood there, tall and broad-shouldered, his presence impossible to ignore. His stormy gray eyes swept lazily across the room before landing on her—for just a second.

Yet in that fleeting moment, she felt the ground shift beneath her.

His dark overcoat bore faint traces of mist, as though he had just stepped out of the evening fog that so often blanketed the city.

He wasn't dressed extravagantly, nor did he appear outwardly threatening. But there was something about him—something unnatural, something dangerous.

A quiet warning echoed in the back of her mind, urging her to look away. To ignore him.

But curiosity had always been her weakness.

Should I listen?

She had five chances every day. Five moments when she could reach into someone's mind and hear their thoughts.

It wasn't mind control. It wasn't even full telepathy. Just whispers—a glimpse into the truths people never spoke aloud.

Most of the time, she resisted. Knowing people's thoughts was a burden she had learned to carry carefully.

But this man... Something about him felt different.

Before she could stop herself, she let her mind reach out.

And then, a voice echoed inside her head.

"Don't read my mind." Siaara gasped.

She stumbled back, nearly knocking over a tray of cups. Her fingers tightened around the edge of the counter, her breath coming in short, uneven bursts.

No. No, that wasn't possible.

No one had ever caught her before.

No one was supposed to.

Her wide eyes darted back to him, but he was already watching her, amusement flickering across his sharp features. A slow, knowing smirk curved his lips.

"Be careful, little mind-reader," his voice murmured again inside her head.

Only this time, his lips didn't move.

A cold shiver ran down her spine.

Before she could react, he turned and strode past the counter, disappearing into the café's kitchen.

As if he belonged there.

Siaara stood frozen, her pulse pounding in her ears.

Who was he? And more importantly, How did he know?

"What do you think will happen next?"

"Let me know your thoughts in the comments!"