Mir approached the small, cozy café on the embankment and spotted a familiar silhouette through the window even before stepping inside. Theo was sitting at a table by the glass, talking on the phone and nervously twisting a napkin between his fingers. His expression was focused, while the evening light gently traced the line of his profile.

  Making sure Theo was absorbed in the call and hadn’t noticed him, Mir couldn’t resist pulling out his phone to take a picture. The streetlights slowly began to flicker on. As if sensing something, Theo glanced toward the street and locked eyes with Miroslav. Mir nearly dropped his phone but managed to catch it, making an awkward half-motion as if to wave — forgetting that the phone was still in his hand — and immediately scolded himself for the childish impulse.

  Trying not to interrupt the call, Mir took a seat at one of the wooden tables on the outdoor terrace, still empty as it waited for warmer days. From there, it was easy to watch Theo discreetly — a skill Mir believed he had mastered perfectly by now.

  Meanwhile, Theo was having a far from pleasant conversation with his agent, who was clearly dissatisfied with his “progress.”

  The voice on the other end sounded dry and sharp:

  “I got a call from the photographer from yesterday’s lookbook. I spent half an hour listening to complaints about what ‘unprofessional people’ he has to work with. He’s not exactly a gift himself, but if it were just him… ” The man sighed heavily. “The last few shoots have been a complete failure, Theo. I understand this is hard for you — you lost someone close. I know what that feels like, I’ve been through it too. But you need to pull yourself together. This is life. It doesn’t stop. Work isn’t the place for personal drama, otherwise you’ll find yourself overboard very quickly. I’m not trying to scare you. I’m just being honest. Drop the unnecessary emotions and remember what you’re capable of.”

  Of course everyone knows how I feel, Theo thought bitterly.

  He didn’t argue. He had seen the raw shots from the last session himself — the empty gaze, the stiff poses, the tired confusion in his expression. Not the kind of work clients were willing to pay for. And knowing he couldn’t afford to lose this job right now, he apologized and promised he’d be back in shape for the next shoot.

  His life had suddenly turned into a tangled heap of practical concerns. The mortgage was the most pressing issue. He was constantly speaking to the bank, to the insurance company that was supposed to cover it due to the insured event. It felt as if dozens of times a day he had to explain to different people — most of them notably lacking empathy — what had happened. It was exhausting. Add to that an endless amount of paperwork and bureaucratic details, all while he was still trying to adapt to the abrupt shift in his entire life.

  When he finally ended the call and set his phone aside, Miroslav approached the table.

  Even on a day off, he looked impeccable: perfectly ironed shirt, not a single unnecessary crease in his trousers, his collar fastened just enough to avoid looking overly formal.

  Theo had always admired his precise neatness. Theo himself sometimes forgot where the iron was in his apartment and almost never used it. He instinctively chose clothes that required little care, favoring comfort and freedom of movement. His sporty style had little to do with sports and everything to do with personal comfort.

  From the outside, they might have seemed to have little in common. Until recently, Theo had thought so too.

  “I hope you haven’t been waiting long,” he asked, standing and extending his hand.

  “I’ve got plenty of free time today,” Mir reassured him quickly, then added, “I was thinking we could take a walk, if you’re up for it.”

  They grabbed coffee to go and headed toward the river. It was a pleasant spring evening. A light breeze drifted from the water, where boats and river trams passed one after another — some with loud music and lively groups on board, others carrying tourists curiously observing the shoreline.

  They walked slowly, and from a distance, they could easily have been mistaken for old friends. To his own surprise, Theo felt the tension from the agent’s call gradually fade. Being near Miroslav felt unusually comfortable. Maybe it was the atmosphere of the evening, or the long-awaited warmth. Or maybe it had always been this way, and he simply hadn’t noticed.

  Mir could talk for a long time, going into detailed explanations about almost anything, sparing Theo the need to invent topics or fill awkward silences.

  At some point, he was enthusiastically describing a new project he’d be managing, but after glancing at Theo — lost in his own thoughts — he suddenly stopped.

  “Let’s talk about something else before I get carried away again,” Mir said gently. “I forget sometimes that not everyone finds design details fascinating. You should stop me now and then.”

  “No, no, I’m sorry…” Theo replied quickly, realizing his thoughts had drifted far away and he had truly lost the thread of the conversation. “It’s just…”

  He paused, trying to come up with an excuse, but suddenly understood he had neither the strength nor the desire to pretend.

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  “It’s just that so much has happened lately. My head’s constantly full of pointless noise.”

  Mir slowed his pace slightly and looked at him attentively.

  “You can tell me.”

  Theo smiled faintly and shook his head, waving it off.

  “It’s nothing important… honestly, blueprints are way more interesting.”

  “And still,” Mir repeated with quiet persistence.

  Theo looked away, feeling his usual defenses begin to crack.

  “You know…” he said thoughtfully, “I was suddenly thrown headfirst into adult life. And I’m not really liking it so far. Sometimes I just want to run away from all of it.”

  Mir stopped abruptly and turned to face him.

  “Theo… maybe I can help with something?”

  “No, it’s okay,” Theo insisted with a careful smile. “I just need time to sort out some paperwork.” He ran a hand through his already unruly hair.

  “I’m not saying it out of politeness,” Mir replied firmly. “So just tell me if you need anything. Don’t try to handle everything alone.”

  Theo nodded and thanked him again for his concern, quickly changing the subject, feeling indebted enough already.

  “I haven’t been here in a while. You know, I just remembered this strange shoot I had once. It was on the steps of that bridge.” He gestured into the distance. “It was freezing. They dressed me in this ridiculous fur coat — on a bare torso that was supposed to show — and I had to pretend I was overheating. Meanwhile, I could barely move my fingers.”

  “I would never have guessed. It turned out very… impressive,” Mir said thoughtfully.

  Theo looked at him in surprise, and in that very second Mir realized his attempt at encouragement sounded, at best, ambiguous.

  “I—I happened to see that photo once,” Mir hurried to explain. “I was standing in line at a register, flipping through the first magazine I grabbed…” he continued, his voice betraying him with a slight tremor.

  He remembered that shoot far too well — and the decidedly not innocent fantasies it had awakened. Even now, he could easily find one of the saved photos on his phone. But that was certainly not something he should show Theo.

  Theo fell silent for a moment, then looked at Miroslav with complete seriousness.

  “Be honest. Have you been secretly keeping tabs on me?”

  The question sounded so plausible that Miroslav froze, staring at him, struggling to regain composure. It had been a long time since he’d felt so cornered — like he might simply turn and flee, dignity forgotten — but he knew he had to say something quickly before it became truly ridiculous.

  Watching the entire spectrum of emotions flicker across his face, Theo broke into a wide smile.

  “I’m kidding,” he said, lightly nudging Mir’s shoulder to ease the tension. “Honestly, it’s just so easy to talk to you. Back at the office, you didn’t seem very talkative. I even thought maybe it was because of me.”

  He looked into Mir’s dark eyes, where confusion still lingered.

  And of course it was because of him — who else? But Mir couldn’t admit that. Instead, he retreated into familiar territory.

  “In the office, to be honest, my mind’s completely occupied with projects,” he said in a calm, collected tone. “Deadlines. Deliveries. Endless revisions…”

  He ran a hand through his hair, as if concluding the matter.

  “It’s hard to think about anything else there.”

  Theo watched him for a few seconds, noting the sudden shift in tone, then gave a small understanding nod.

  They continued walking, and the conversation gradually returned to a comfortable rhythm. The next few hours passed unnoticed. They wandered along the wide embankment glowing in evening lights, then drifted through quiet side streets, later sitting and talking in a small, noisy café on a lively square filled with tourists and street musicians.

  And only when it was completely dark did they part ways, promising to meet like this again sometime soon.

  Late that evening, still unwinding after the long walk, Theo lay on his bed scrolling through photos on Instagram when the thought crossed his mind to look up Miroslav.

  He found his open profile surprisingly quickly — and raised an eyebrow when he noticed that Miroslav was already following him. Without overthinking it, Theo hit “Follow back” and sent him a direct message.

  As expected, Miroslav didn’t have many photos. Only one of them featured himself: wearing a construction helmet, blueprints in hand, standing among a foundation and exposed steel rebar.

  “In your element,” Theo commented under the photo.

  Mir saw the notifications but didn’t open them right away. He had already said more than usual that evening. And now this. Of all things, why had he followed him from his real profile? At the time it hadn’t seemed like a bad idea. Now it felt as though he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t have.

  He even seriously considered replying later — maybe tomorrow. He would pause long enough to create the impression that he barely used social media and hardly remembered pressing the “Follow” button in the first place. That would be the sensible thing to do.

  But his hand reached for the phone anyway.

  Theo:

  Not sure how often you’re on here, but I wanted to thank you for today. I really appreciated the company.

  The reply didn’t come immediately, as if Miroslav had decided to hold the pause after all.

  Mir:

  Anytime. I enjoyed the evening too.

  A moment later, another message followed:

  In the summer I sometimes ride my bike along the embankment. Usually in the evenings. If you’d like to join me sometime, I can show you a solid route.

  Summer sounded tempting, of course. But wasn’t that a bit too far away? Theo thought, and typed again.

  Theo:

  That’s a great idea.

  A second message followed shortly after:

  What about next Saturday? I was thinking it would be nice to do it again.

  Mir couldn’t hold back a smile, though his chest felt crowded with conflicting emotions. Still, there was no doubt about what his answer would be.

  “Next Saturday works for me.”

  As always—brief. Controlled.

  In the darkness of his bedroom, the faint glow of the phone lit Theo’s thoughtful face. Squinting at the dim light, he replayed moments from his conversations with Miroslav: the short exchanges, his calm, almost careful tone, the small pauses, the subtle shifts in mood, the attentive look in his eyes.

  None of it seemed accidental anymore.

  The more he turned it over in his mind, the less absurd the thought felt—the one that had suddenly taken shape.

  Theo was a perceptive young man. And that evening, a rather intriguing puzzle assembled itself in his head. One of its final pieces was the moment Miroslav had tried to discreetly photograph him—something that had not gone unnoticed.

  Miroslav… How long have you been looking at me like that?

  How interesting.