Chapter 2 Just A Coffee Girl

Talia had grown used to seeing the same faces each morning-sleep-deprived college students, local artists with ink-stained fingers, and hurried parents grabbing double-shot lattes before the school run. But Ethan Blake was a different kind of regular.

He didn't scroll on his phone like the others. He didn't chat. He didn't even pretend to blend in.

Every morning at 7:58, the bell above the door rang, and there he was-perfectly timed like a ritual. He ordered the same thing, sat at the same table, and stared out the same window, as if he were waiting for something... or someone.

Harper had already speculated that he was either a lonely widower or a mysterious secret agent. Talia wasn't buying either. She thought he was just... sad.

That morning, after handing him his Americano, she dared to break the silence.

"So, why this place?" she asked casually, wiping a spot on the counter that didn't need cleaning.

He looked up at her for the first time that day. "What?"

"You could have coffee flown in from Colombia. Why a tiny café in Brooklyn?"

Ethan's gaze didn't waver. "I like quiet. No noise. No stares."

She smirked. "You realize everyone stares at you, right?"

He glanced at the room, then back at her. "Except you."

Talia blinked.

"Well," she said, recovering quickly, "I stare at your wallet. Not you."

That made the corner of his mouth twitch-almost a smile.

"And here I thought you had a memory for orders," he said.

"I do. I also have a memory for people who don't tip normally."

He slid another twenty across the counter.

"Keep the change," he said again.

She shook her head. "You say that every day."

"Then stop remembering my order."

She blinked, then laughed-actually laughed. "Deal."

He turned to leave but paused. "What's your name?"

She hesitated for a beat. "Talia."

He nodded slowly. "Nice to meet you, Talia."

And with that, he returned to his seat by the window.