The café door chimed as Lily Harper stepped inside, shivering from the early December chill. Her scarf was twisted awkwardly around her neck, and her gloves had somehow lost their match somewhere between her apartment and the street. She brushed imaginary snowflakes off her coat and scanned the crowded room, looking for her usual corner by the window.
The café smelled of roasted coffee beans and cinnamon. Sunlight slanted through the frosted glass, casting a golden hue on the mismatched wooden tables. Lily loved this time of day—the quiet hum of chatter, the soft clink of spoons against porcelain, the world slowing down just enough for her to breathe.
She spotted her usual seat, but someone was already there.
“Oh… uh…” she stammered, hesitating at the edge of the table. The man sitting there didn’t look up immediately, buried in a sketchpad. His hair was tousled in a deliberately careless way, dark strands falling into his eyes as he concentrated. Something about him was immediately intriguing, and Lily felt a flush of curiosity mixed with annoyance.
