Sofia wiped her hands on her skirt, watching the man move toward the meter box. He walked with quiet certainty—each step measured, unhurried. Something about the way he carried himself made her heart stir with uneasy familiarity.
He crouched beside the small metal casing near the fence, unscrewing the cover with careful precision. The other worker called out a few numbers, but Sofia barely heard them.
Her eyes stayed on him.
The sunlight hit the side of his face just enough for her to catch the line of his jaw, the faint shadow of stubble that hadn't been there before, and the familiar slope of his shoulders beneath the uniform. Her chest tightened. No one else moved like that.
Her fingers curled at her sides, pulse quickening.
It couldn't be.
But when he glanced up—just briefly—the world around her seemed to still.
