Part 5

Meanwhile, in the Elise district, Carol was wrapping up another long day at work. As she prepared to close the gate of "Café et Sucre," a masculine voice called out from behind her.

"Excuse me..."

"You're the man from the other day," Carol said as she turned to see who it was.

"I'm looking for Yuna," Vincent said with his typical charm, as snowflakes gently fell around him.

"She’s already left," Carol replied with a coquettish smile. "Do you know where I can find her?" Vincent asked, returning her smile politely.

"She’s probably catching the metro to go home."

Vincent’s usually calm expression was momentarily clouded with concern upon hearing those words. Unknown to Yuna, Vincent Dokovic shared a special connection with her, a bond that, at times, caused his heart to tremble whenever imminent danger loomed over her.

Keeping his composure, he politely bid Carol farewell and began making his way toward the metro station.

━━━━━━✧❂✧━━━━━━

The long-awaited Christmas holidays were approaching, and the crowds filled the historic streets of Sainte-Coline. "Allée de Lumière" was a boulevard where thousands of shops of all kinds gathered to satisfy every consumer’s whim.

Christmas lights were beginning to be set up amid the bustling crowd, all properly dressed to face another round of winter's chill. In contrast to them all, a slender figure wearing a short satin dress with floral prints stood in the middle of the avenue, carrying a couple of bags and a large black umbrella.

"Bread, eggs, fruit... I don’t know if I’m forgetting something," Nasai muttered to herself while waiting for the light to change.

Nasai took charge every year of preparing for the anniversary of their parents' death. That way, Yuna, who was more distant about such events, only had to show up. For that reason, improvisation was not welcome on this special day.

A few meters away, under the façade of an Irish pub, Patrick stood smoking, letting the smoke deeply fill his lungs. Annie, standing to his right, couldn’t take her eyes off him. The mere act of watching Patrick blow out that small cloud of smoke from his crimson lips, while snowflakes delicately fell on his pale complexion, was mesmerizing. The young redhead couldn’t help but be consumed by the desire to touch those lips—thin yet full, brimming with passion and sensuality.

Whenever she was with the youngest Dokovic, Annie felt as though time froze, creating a universe just for the two of them. But suddenly, she noticed that just before taking his final drag, Patrick’s face turned even paler. The cigarette between his long, slender fingers fell to the ground, slowly buried under the snow.

"Patrick, are you okay?" Annie asked, worried.

"Tultïen?" he whispered, barely moving his lips as he took two steps forward, leaving her behind.

"What did you say?" Annie asked, trying to grab his arm but failing, as Patrick, quite unexpectedly, began to walk away.

It was the first time in thousands of years that Patrick’s heart raced so rapidly. His blood rushed through his body like a waterfall in full force, as if a surge of adrenaline had reignited his instincts.

What his eyes had seen crossing the street had captured his attention. Specifically, his gaze had fixed on a young woman with dark skin, delicately carrying a couple of bags and a black umbrella shielding her from the snow. Her satin dress with floral borders reached just above her knees, and as if she were the only person in the world, Patrick saw her—unique, perfect, and deeply familiar. As he ran toward her, recklessly dodging the vehicles around him, he couldn’t help but repeat to himself, "It can’t be, it’s impossible. It can’t be, it’s impossible. It can’t be... her."