Chapter One
The Rain Knows Your Name
It was raining in Paris. It's not the charming kind of rain they'd sing about - the delicate drizzle that makes lovers duck into doorways and kiss under umbrellas. No, this was the 'you should have listened to the wealth report' kind of rain. The sky had opened like a broken faucet, cold and relentless, soaking my coat in minutes and transforming the cobbled streets of Montmartre into slicks rivers of broken leaves and cigarette butts.
I should've taken a cab. But no one cries in a cab. That's ridiculous! If I had, I would have rendered a show - the hiccuping, eyes- swollen, body- trembling outburst. Hmm... That kind of outburst that makes people cross the street in haste
So I walked.
My ex- Louis - used to say Paris was the city of second chances. Maybe that's why he'd given me at least three final goodbyes before this one. The fourth goodbye - finale - felt different. It was cold and cleaner like a line had been drawn, not with a chalk but with a scalpel.
I turned into an alley I couldn't recognize. It was dark. This was pretty odd as I'd lived in Paris in the past five years. I was on the verge of breaking down anywhere. The buildings looked blurry, while haunted shadows quickened my footsteps. Then, I saw it.
A café. Small, crooked shank, glowing like a hearth in the shadows. It learned slightly to one side,as if they had forgotten it existed and had begun to slouch. A sign dangling from a wrought- iron hook above the door read: Le Cœur Brisé: The Broken Heart.
I peeked inside and felt uneasy. The tables were empty. No one was around. No barista wiping down the tables, just a single red lantern flickering above the door. The flames were impossibly steady , burning against the wind. I should've kept walking. As I turned, the door suddenly creaked open.
"Well," I muttered to no one,"either this is where I get warm or where I get murdered." I shrugged my shoulders as cold fear swept upwards my spine. My hands involuntarily rubbed my shoulders as if trying to reassure them. I look around furtively, dreading the worst to come, especially through that door.
The warmth inside hit me first; thick buttery heat, like walking into a bakery wrapped in a wool sweater. Then, the smell- lavender or cinnamon,wafted into my nostrils. It was soothing, aromatic. Then, I noticed the two people behind the counter.
A woman stood with her arms crossed and a raised eyebrow. Her gray curls were pinned up with silver chopsticks. She wore a navy apron over a red turtleneck and had the demeanor of someone who could steam a jar of milk and skin a man without betraying her emotions.
Beside her stood a man who looked like a painting come alive. He was too smooth to be real, very precise. He didn't smile. Instead,he shimmered.
"Bienvenue," he said, his voice was deep and accented like velvet dipped in wine. "You are…. heartbroken?"
I blinked. "Excuse me?"
The woman sighed,"He's not trying to be rude. It's just that…well. The cafe only appears to the heartbroken." I looked behind me. The door was still open. I could hear as rain continued pelting the street like angry piano keys.
" Only appears to?", I stuttered
" Yes." The man said as he folded a towel with deliberate grace. " This cafe," he tapped on the hard wood counter,"is enchanted. We're exclusive." He concluded.
"Right." I nodded slowly, dripping onto the floor. " Is this…. some kind of immersive theater thing? Do I pay at the end or I get to be on TV?" I waved my hands in the air frantically.
" Have a seat," the woman said, pointing to a tufted velvet chair near the fireplace. " You look terrible, like regret in a trench coat." She mused as her eyes surveyed me, head to toes.
" Horrible!" She muttered under her breath.
I sat down as instructed. My eyes roved round, scanning for the nearest exit.
" This is ridiculous. Absolutely ishy."I wondered. I've had a mental breakdown recently -a mild one, junior year,finals week,too much Red Bull- but this? Wandering into an enchanted cafe and being told I've qualified because I'm heartbroken? Nope. Except.. I'm heartbroken. And this chair feels",I patted the smooth sofa,"familiar."
The woman returned with a steaming cup in a dainty floral porcelain mug. A little swirl of sanddust danced on the foam.
"What is this?" I queried.
" Chamomile Closure," she said. " Mildly enchanted. Have no fear.It won't erase your memory. Just softens the edges." She gestured towards her head.
"Merci,"
I sipped my tea slowly. It tasted like warm honey.
" You can call me Genevieve,"the woman said. " And this is the melodramatic fairy, Lucien."
" Fae," Lucien corrected softly.
" Touché. I own the cafe. He provides the magic."
"And you." Lucien said, tilting his head at me," are..?"
"Ivy." I hesitated. "Ivy Marcel."
Genevieve looked me over. " What's your story? Let me guess. Hmm.. Graphic designer, freelance. You live alone," She tightens her lips as she continued." Gave up on dating apps because you're quite unlucky. Never gotten better than divorced actors and confused vegans."
My jaw dropped slightly.
She shrugged. " The cafe doesn't appear to just anyone."
I decided to stay a while. An hour passed. Then, two.
I wondered how I would escape from this tangle, this mystery. I watched as the fireplace illuminated the room. The bright, reddish embers flustered wildly against the wall. The flames curled into shapes that told half- truths before vanishing. I guessed I was the only one who saw that. The warm air smelled like toasted almonds wrapped in old brown papers.
Lucien walked over to serve a guest. I could see him but his chair was vacant. A ghost? I must be dreaming. Lucien poured him a drink and returned to the counter. The mystery guest nodded his head, took a sip and whoosh..! vanished.
I blinked again, wanting to reassure myself I hadn't lost my mind. " Pinch me. I think I'm dreaming!" I said to myself.
" Is it always this weird?" I asked no one in particular.
" Only when you stare." Genevieve offered.
I liked her already. She was sharp and unsentimental. She had stories to tell but in her own time.
" You're hiring?" I asked, half- joking.
Lucien tilted his head to the left," Actually,our barista recently fell in love with a siren and moved underwater."
I blinked again. " Excuse me?
Genevieve smiled." You're hired."
That was the day I stopped mourning my past and stepped into the world of magic. I faced my dilemma with a straight face. I wanted more. I was transfixed. Perhaps it was hope. Or was it enchantment. Maybe it was the cup of tea that tasted like something worth waiting for.