It had been a few days since the incident with the difficult customer—the day Katherine had met the quiet, dark-hooded stranger who had stepped in like something out of a half-forgotten dream.
Since then, life had settled back into its usual pace. The café thrummed with its daily rhythms: the sharp hiss of steaming milk, the low murmur of conversations, the steady click of cups setting onto saucers. Yet, woven into the fabric of her routine, there was now something—or rather, someone—new.
The man who had saved her, whose name she still didn't know, had started appearing more often.
Not every day, but enough that Katherine began to notice the pattern. Sometimes he would come in around lunchtime, ordering something simple—a sandwich, a croissant, an iced coffee. Other times, he would slip in during the quieter afternoon hours when the sun cast long, lazy rays through the windows, ordering a tea or a small pastry.
