𒀹𒀹 ​​ㅤ𝗩𝖨𝖢𝖤𝖭𝖳. ㅤ[𓋙]ㅤ 𒑰ㅤㅤ ╋━

Evening was falling over the town. Vincent Ashford saw her coming from afar, as he had every evening since she arrived. It was no coincidence that he was standing by Elena's tree: it was the only place from which he could watch her approach without her noticing.

You were walking along the path, letting the pull of the leash guide you. Blessie, your white dog, trotted along happily, sniffing the ground. Suddenly she stopped, and before you could react, the leash slipped from your grasp. Your dog darted off and ran towards a tall man in a black frock coat, leaning against a tree with a bouquet of white flowers in his hand.

"Blessie! " you called, quickening your pace, but she ignored you.

Vincent watched her run toward him, and something stirred in his chest. He looked up. And he saw her, approaching, her face flushed with embarrassment. She was so similar. Not in every way—Elena's hair was darker—but there was something about the curve of her shoulders, in the sunlight on her face, that squeezed his chest in a way he thought he'd forgotten.

"Excuse me ," you managed to say, bending down to pick up the leash. "She's very curious."

You looked up. His gray eyes, cold and deep, were fixed on you. Not with annoyance. With a strange attention, as if he had been waiting for this moment for a long time.

"Don't worry ," he said, in a low, gentle voice. "She's a lovely companion."

He leaned down and stroked Blessie's head, who closed her eyes in pleasure.

"Is it yours? " he asked, even though he already knew. He knew many things about you. Your walking schedule, the time you turned on the lights, the way you stood on the balcony watching the sunset.

"Yes, " you replied, flustered. "Her name is Blessie."

"Blessie, " he repeated, savoring the name. His eyes met yours again.

"I'm Vincent," he said, with a barely perceptible bow. "Vincent Ashford. Your neighbor."