The air in Page & Perk smelled of cinnamon, coffee, and old books - the kind of scent that felt like home. Sunlight poured through the large bay window, casting golden streaks across the wooden floorboards. The quiet murmur of customers flipping through pages filled the space, blending with the soft hum of indie music playing from the speakers.

It was a typical Saturday morning. Slow, predictable, safe.

Then he walked in.

The chime above the door rang out, sharper than usual, slicing through the comfortable stillness. I glanced up from the register, fully prepared to offer my usual polite smile.

But the sight of him stole the air from my lungs.

He was tall, his dark coat dusted with raindrops from the lingering drizzle outside. His presence felt? heavy, like he carried something unseen on his broad shoulders. His sharp jawline was dusted with the beginnings of stubble, and his deep-set eyes flickered around the bookstore like he wasn't quite sure if he belonged here.

Something about him made my chest tighten.

It wasn't just his presence. It wasn't just the way his eyes - stormy gray, unreadable - locked onto mine as though he recognized me too.

It was the ring.

At first, I barely noticed it as he reached for a book on the nearby display shelf. But when his fingers curled around the spine of a hardcover, the simple silver band on his left hand caught the light.

The world stopped.

My heart slammed against my ribs.

My throat went dry.

Because I knew that ring.

I knew every detail - the smooth edges, the slight scratch near the center, the way it fit perfectly on a size ten finger.

I had slid that very ring onto my husband's hand six years ago.

And five years ago, Daniel had disappeared.

The bookstore, the soft music, the distant laughter of customers - it all blurred into a dull hum. My vision narrowed, my breathing uneven as I stared at the impossible.

"Excuse me?" The words left me before I could think.

The man looked up, startled. His expression was unreadable - somewhere between curiosity and guarded hesitation.

I stepped out from behind the counter, my pulse a deafening roar in my ears.

"Where did you get that?" My voice came out sharp, almost accusatory.

He frowned slightly, following my gaze to his hand. "The book?"

"No." I shook my head, my fingers curling into my palms. "The ring."

The shift in his expression was so subtle I almost missed it. A flicker of something - confusion, hesitation - before he straightened.

"This?" He lifted his hand slightly, glancing down at the band. "I bought it."

My stomach twisted. "Where?"

His eyes darkened, and I could tell my intensity caught him off guard.

"A flea market," he answered after a moment.

My breath caught. "Where exactly?"

"Chicago."

The air in my lungs turned to stone.

Chicago.

The last place Daniel had been seen before he vanished without a trace.

My head spun. My body screamed at me to take a step back, to breathe, to be rational. Rings were common. It could be a coincidence. It had to be a coincidence.

But deep in my bones, I knew better.

I took another step forward, my voice barely above a whisper. "That ring belonged to my husband."

Silence.

For a moment, neither of us spoke. The soft rustling of pages, the quiet chatter of customers - it all seemed distant, irrelevant.

The stranger's face remained unreadable, but there was something in his eyes now. Something unsettled.

I searched his face for answers, for recognition. "Who are you?"

A muscle in his jaw tensed before he finally spoke.

"My name is Julian."

The name meant nothing to me.

But the way he said it - the slight stiffness, the flicker of something else in his eyes - told me he was lying.

"And I swear," he continued, his voice lower now, almost careful, "I have no idea who your husband is."

I didn't believe him.

Not for a second.

Because the way he was looking at me - the way his fingers curled ever so slightly into his palm, like he was fighting the urge to react - told me this was no accident.

He knew something.

He was hiding something.

And somehow, in some way, that something was connected to Daniel.

I took a shaky breath, my world tilting beneath me.

One thing was certain.

My husband had been missing for five years.

And this man - this stranger - was about to reveal everything I thought I knew.