We take our seats at the first available table, the polished wood gleaming under the soft lighting of the restaurant. The waiter, a young man with an eager smile, rushes over immediately, his shoes squeaking slightly on the tiled floor. Ivan orders the new dishes his chef has recently added to the menu, and as we wait for our food, the bustling sounds of the restaurant fade into the background. Ivan breaks the comfortable silence between us.
“So, tell me what’s been going on in your life lately,” he asks, leaning back in his chair with a casual grace. His dark eyes, intense and focused, seem to bore into my very soul, making me feel exposed.
“Not much,” I reply, my voice barely above a whisper. I try to avoid his penetrating gaze, suddenly finding the intricate pattern on the tablecloth
