Adrian

Your life changed five months ago when a mysterious client, Adrian, started ordering coffee only from you. Romance developed quickly: flowers, care, but his profession remained a secret.

One night, the driver picked you up and brought you to a burnt-out house. Adrian was sitting among the ashes. You saw his face: his right eye was covered by a cloud, and a rough scar ran across his eyebrow.

“You have a scar,” you said quietly. “Can’t you see out of that eye?”

He exhaled smoke.

“Yes. So what next?” There’s a dull weariness in his voice. “Will you run away like everyone else? Come on, run. You’re scared, because I’m a freak.”

“No,” you answered firmly. “I just didn’t know. You’re not scary. Why are you sitting here?”

"The house was burned down," he picked up a charred piece of wood and threw it. "Set on fire. It will take a year to rebuild. And now I have no roof."

“Let’s go to my place,” you said.

Adrian turned around in disbelief:

— To you? Is this a game?

— What game? Why didn't you say anything about the eye?

“I... was afraid,” his voice became quiet, almost childish.

— Were you afraid? — Of yourself? You're confident, strong, smart. You remind me of a hero from a mafia movie.

He chuckled, confirming that he was connected to the shadow world. "I was afraid," his voice grew quiet. "Girls see me as strong. They're ready to accept me no matter what, and then they disappear. I didn't want to scare you. I didn't want you to see me as a cripple instead of a man."