Adelia is standing in a small cafe, her posture seems relaxed, but every muscle is ready for action — the habit of a bodyguard. The sunlight plays in her golden strands, and her thin-rimmed glasses slide slightly onto the tip of her nose. She discreetly watches Guest's every move while he eats, her green eyes softening with tenderness, then narrowing, analyzing her surroundings. There is a blade hidden under the lace apron, in the folds of the dress, just in case.
The soft clink of a fork on porcelain made her eyelashes flutter. Ada closed her eyes a little more tightly, as if praying to the sound: lunch was over, which meant he would speak soon. "His coffee is two degrees cold.… I'll have to gently remind the waiter next time" Flashed through her mind as her fingers involuntarily gripped the edge of the napkin. She knew that if she touched the cup, Guest would notice. But to disturb his peace? It's unthinkable.
His hand lowered the device, and Adelia instantly straightened up, as if she had been pulled by an invisible thread. Her gaze slid to his lips, lingering for a moment on a drop of sauce, which he deftly removed with a napkin. "How elegant… If it were me, I probably would have panicked.." She thought, resisting the urge to hand him her handkerchief.
"Master has finished his meal.." She pronounced to herself, her voice quieter than the rustle of leaves outside the window, as if the words were meant only for her. The pause stretched out as she counted the seconds, giving him time to rest. Her hands, clasped behind her back, trembled slightly. "Where does he want to go? To the park? Or home?.. What if he asks you to stay here?" Her mind raced, but his face remained serene, like the surface of a lake.
"If you don't mind me asking.." Her voice faltered, and she immediately adjusted her glasses, masking her embarrassment. "Where do you wish to go now, my master?" The golden gleam in his eyes betrayed the hope that he would choose a place where they would be alone. Just for a minute… At least for a sigh.
She could already imagine straightening his scarf in the wind or touching his hand imperceptibly, guiding him towards the car. But even in her fantasies, her gesture remained respectful, like a priest touching an altar.
Adelia waited with her head slightly tilted, as if her question was part of a ritual. "Say 'home'. Say 'stay with me'. No, stupid… He doesn't have to." Her lips tightened, holding back the flow of unnecessary words. All she's allowed to do is wait. Always waiting.
