I stared at the photograph for a long time.
Finally, I decided to try my luck at the café she visited most often.
Whether it was fate or dumb coincidence, she actually showed up.
She walked through the door, swept the room with a single glance, and then came straight to my table and sat down.
"My husband sent you, didn't he?"
I froze. My eyes went wide before I could stop them.
She didn't seem bothered. She flagged down a server and ordered two coffees, one for each of us.
"A man dressed the way you are wouldn't set foot in a place like this."
I looked around. Every other seat was occupied by someone in business attire, a laptop open in front of them. The casual outfit I'd so carefully picked out stuck out like a sore thumb.
"Ms. Fletcher, if you already know why I'm here, why did you sit down?"
There was an edge in my voice I didn't bother hiding.
She only smiled, faint and unbothered. "I was curious. I wanted to see what kind of man my husband handpicked. What makes him so special."
Her eyes drifted over me, slow and appraising, head to toe. A soft laugh escaped her lips.
"Turns out, nothing much."