1.
The sound of rainfall softly caressed the soil, mingling with the unique scent of nature, pulling her out of the intense scene in the novel she had been reading. She glanced out of the window. The lifeless leaves on the trees were now soaked, happily clinging to the water, droplets sliding down smoothly, hesitating at their tips for just a second before surrendering to gravity. She zoned out, something she noticed she did quite often—either when boredom took over or when she felt completely at ease. That feeling of simply existing, doing nothing, just sitting in place, sometimes lost in thought, or in this case, admiring the beauty before her.
She had always loved the rain. It filled her with happiness almost instantly, carrying with it a quiet comfort, much like the embrace of a warm blanket on a cold winter night.
After quite some time, she drifted back to reality. The light drizzle had transformed into a full-blown downpour, soaking the ground and sending a crisp chill into the air. This kind of weather called for only one thing—coffee. Her love for coffee was something she couldn’t quite put into words, or perhaps, if she tried, the description might never end.
The rhythmic hum of rain against the café’s windows carried a quiet solace, blending seamlessly with the soft piano melody filtering through the speakers. She sat in her usual corner, curled up with her novel, the world around her fading into the background as she lost herself in the story.
The coffee had been placed beside her just moments ago, and as she reached for it absentmindedly, fingers wrapping around the warmth of the mug, anticipation curling in her chest. A sip.
The taste shattered every ounce of comfort she had wrapped herself in.
Instead of the familiar richness of mocha, an overwhelming wave of caramel coated her tongue—cloying, sickeningly sweet, entirely wrong. Her brows furrowed, lips pressing into a thin line as she set the cup down with deliberate slowness, staring at the offending liquid like it had personally betrayed her. She physically winced. That is how much she hated the taste of caramel.
A quiet chuckle echoed from somewhere nearby—someone had noticed her reaction. Geez as if getting the wrong coffee order wasn’t bad enough, now people were laughing at her.
Exhaling sharply, she slid her book aside and stood, annoyance simmering beneath her calm exterior as she strode toward the counter, the cup balanced in her grip.
“This isn’t what I ordered,” she stated, voice measured but edged with clear displeasure. “I asked for a mocha, not caramel.”
“Oh, no—your order must’ve been mixed up. I’m so sorry! I’ll get the right one for you now.”
The barista beside her, however, barely reacted, offering only a dismissive nod before returning to their task. As if this mishap was nothing more than a minor inconvenience. As if her perfectly planned, rainy-day coffee ritual was insignificant.
She inhaled deeply, biting back the urge to argue. It wasn’t worth it. Not today.
Turning on her heel, she made her way back to her table, frustration lingering like a faint shadow.
She remained utterly unaware that, across the café, someone had been watching her.
Seated at a table near the windows, a guy sat with his friends, feigning interest in their conversation while his gaze flickered back to her—subtle, yet deliberate. He had noticed her the moment she walked in, the way she carried herself with an effortless grace, the quiet intensity in her focus as she slipped into the pages of her book.
And now, watching the barely contained irritation in her stance, the way she had marched up to the counter without hesitation, only amused him further. There was no pretense to her frustration, no careful restraint—just raw, unfiltered emotion.
Lifting his cup, he took another sip, gaze flickering towards her one last time before settling back into the voices around him.
Today’s rain had brought more than just the perfect excuse for coffee. It had brought something—someone—worth noticing.
