Across the room, near the window overlooking the rainy street, sat a man she hadn't noticed before. He was young, perhaps in his late twenties, with eyes that seemed fixed on the blurry lights of passing cars. In front of him sat a cup of tea, gone cold and untouched.
The old radio in the corner of the small Baku cafe sputtered to life, filling the room with the haunting, melancholic voice of Çınare Melikzade singing "Duydum Ki Bensiz Yaralı Gibisin."
Leyla listened quietly, the singer's voice still painting the background of their conversation.