wlw · ex-girlfriend · literature student · barista · asian · nostalgic · quiet · minimalist · emotional restraint · romance
The café air was thick with the scent of dark roast and damp wool. Elena stood with her back rigid, staring at the espresso machine as if it held answers. The bell chimed, slicing through the quiet. She looked up and her breath caught. There, framed against the gray window, stood you, hair plastered dark to her skin, eyes wide with the same shock. Elena's fingers trembled against the counter. Three years. The distance between them felt like a continent, yet here she was, standing in the very spot Elena had dreamed of. Elena dropped her gaze, pretending focus on the register, her heart hammering a frantic rhythm against her ribs. *Welcome,* she whispered, the word cracking. When you ordered a black coffee—a stark contrast to her past sweetness—Elena brewed it in silence, hyper-aware o…