Evania's point of view:
Men would call me a gold digger or an opportunist.
Women would call me smart.
And Mia Dio, the queen she is, would tell me to go find a rich husband.
The latter of the three was more to my liking.
I say all of this, but at the same time I was a hopeless introvert who hated the very thought of dating anyone. If I didn't have to work to survive, I would be home relaxing with a book in hand or a new K-drama playing softly on the television. Luckily, my parents were kind enough to lend me the money to open my very own library café. It seemed like the perfect way to lower my social anxiety while also doing something I loved.
I rested my chin in my palm and let my gaze drift back down to the book in front of me.
A marriage of convenience with a brooding billionaire.
My guilty pleasure.
The female lead was clever, stubborn, and broke. She reminded me entirely too much of myself, which was probably why I couldn't put the book down. The male lead was described as cold, devastatingly handsome, and absurdly rich. They hated each other at first, offering a taste of what a true enemies-to-lovers situation would be like. Then they needed each other, creating an unlikely alliance.
I exhaled softly, a smile tugging at my lips before I could stop it.
It was utterly ridiculous, but I couldn't help how heavy my heart grew with envy. I wanted to fall in love when I least expected it. I wanted the spontaneity and thrill of it. But as much as I wanted all of those things, I had to face the reality that I was far too lazy to actually do them.
I couldn't force myself to go on dates where I would have to learn about another human being. The thought of explaining my favorite food, color, and drink to every prospective boyfriend made me sick. I would rather have my future husband fall out of the sky with a ring in hand, ready to propose.
That was probably why I loved marriage-of-convenience romance books so much. There was something intoxicating about the idea. Not the money—not really—although it was an added bonus.
It was the certainty. The clarity of it all. A deal laid out in black and white. No guessing games. No waiting around wondering if someone would choose you.
You were chosen because you were needed.
I flipped the page, but my eyes skimmed instead of read as my thoughts wandered.
What would it be like, I wondered, to have someone look at you and decide - yes, you're the solution? To have your life change because of a contract, a signature, a handshake. To wake up one day and realize you'd stepped into a story that didn't belong to ordinary people like me.
I snorted quietly at myself and shook my head, glancing up to ground myself in reality. My library café hadn't changed. Still warm wooden shelves lined with books. Still fairy lights strung lazily across the ceiling beams. Still the same low jazz playlist humming through the speakers. Still ordinary.
I looked back down at the book, determined to actually read this time-
A sharp clearing of a throat sliced clean through my thoughts.
I startled so badly my elbow knocked into the stack of receipts beside me. Papers slid dangerously close to the edge of the counter as I gasped, fumbling to shove my book aside like it had personally betrayed me. That's what I got for reading on the job.
"Oh-sorry-hi-" I said all at once, lifting my head far too quickly.
And then I lost the ability to speak.
Dark hair, neatly styled but not overly done. A strong jaw dusted with the faintest hint of stubble. Sharp cheekbones. Eyes-God, his eyes-an impossibly bright shade of blue, focused entirely on me. He was tall, with a commanding presence that made everyone around him seem smaller. He stood directly in front of the counter, close enough that his woodsy scent reached me instantly.
I realized, with a jolt of mortification, that I was staring.
Like... really staring.
My mouth snapped shut, then opened again. "I-I, can I help you?"
Smooth, Evania. Very smooth.
My smile came easily-the practiced one I gave every customer-even though my heart was already misbehaving. I didn't give myself time to think. I could already tell that thinking around him was dangerous. I went straight into autopilot.
"What can I get for you today?"
He didn't answer right away. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, studying me like I was the unfamiliar variable in a familiar equation.
The silence stretched just long enough to feel deliberate, and I wasn't quite sure what to make of it.
"Black coffee," he finally said. "No sugar."
"Of course," I replied, nodding too quickly. "What size?"
"Medium."
I turned toward the machine before my nerves could betray me, grateful to be out of his direct line of sight.
The café hummed quietly around us—the low murmur of pages turning, the faint scent of old paper and fresh coffee mingling in the air. It was my favorite kind of calm. Except now it felt oddly chaotic.
I grabbed a cup, popped off the lid, and poured his coffee. When I set it on the counter, my fingers brushed his. The contact was fleeting-barely there-but it sent a sharp shiver down my spine. I pulled my hand back instantly, hoping he hadn't noticed the way my breath hitched.
"Here you go," I said. "That'll be-"
"Thank you," he said quietly, placing a twenty-dollar bill on the counter.
"You're welcome." I hesitated, then added, "We also have fresh banana bread today."
I didn't know why I said it. Maybe because I wanted an excuse for him to linger. Maybe because I wanted to see if I could make him smile. Food tended to do
that.
His gaze dropped briefly to the pastry case. "Do you like it?"
"Yes," I said without hesitation. "A lot."
Another pause.
"I'll take a slice."
My lips curved before I could stop them. "Coming right up."
I bagged the banana bread, slid it across the counter, and rang him up, doing my best to ignore the way his presence filled the small space. He thanked me again and picked up his coffee. For a moment, I braced myself. I had unknowingly packed his order to go, yet I found myself hoping he would stay.
He lingered, gaze drifting past me toward the rows of books lining the walls. His jaw tightened, then relaxed. He shifted his weight, fingers tightening slightly around the cup.
I breathed a sigh of relief when he finally walked toward the shelves, chose a book at random, and settled into a chair directly in my line of sight.
An array of feelings churned in my stomach, but I ignored them all. I didn't analyze why it mattered so much or why I wanted him to stay. I simply let myself enjoy the fact that he was here.
The day passed much faster than usual, filled with stolen glances from both sides. His coffee was long gone and the banana bread devoured, yet he didn't move. After the first hour, he pulled out a laptop, effectively crushing all my hopes that he'd stayed because of me. He was probably just looking for a nice place to work, and I had roped him into my delusions.
Even so, I couldn't stop staring. And the way he kept glancing at me made me feel like he might share those delusions too. I wasn't one to make the first
move, but I hated the unknown. I needed to know if there was something there or not.
With a deep breath, I decided to bite the bullet and take the chance to ask him out but when I spun around, he was already gone.