Prologue
All characters, names, events, places, and scenes are purely products of imagination. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
If you asked Daisy Laurent where love begins, she'd say,“In a cup of coffee. Or maybe in a muffin. But definitely in a café.”
She believed the universe spoke in small way, spilled drinks, missed buses, matching book titles on two separate tables. The kind of things other people ignored. The kind of things she doodled on napkins and secretly called signs.
If you asked Nico Vance where love begins, he'd probably mutter something about marketing strategies and plot clichés. Love, he insisted, was a literary construct good for fiction, messy in real life, and absolutely not the result of coffee shop accidents or spontaneous croissant-sharing.
He didn’t believe in fate. She didn’t believe in accidents. And yet, somehow, they kept ending up at the same little café, at the same time, with the same order always wrong.
Somewhere between black coffee and mystery muffins, eye rolls and warm laughter, something started to shift. Not all love stories begin with fireworks.
Some begin with a spilled drin…a sketch on a napkin…and a table neither of them meant to share.
