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One evening, as she was locking up, Julian stayed behind. The rain was back, blurring the streetlights into golden smears.

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It was a slow-burn romance, built on the quiet intimacy of shared silence. There were no grand gestures, just the way Julian always brought her a double-shot espresso when the fog rolled in, and the way Clara saved every clipping about local architecture for him. One evening, as she was locking up, Julian stayed behind