CHAPTER 1 — THE SPILLED-LATTE INCIDENT
Mira Hale wanted three simple things that morning: caffeine, peace, and the illusion that she was not horrifically behind on her graphic design deadlines. Unfortunately, the universe had woken up in a chaotic mood and decided to make a personal attack.
The café was unusually crowded, the air warm with roasted espresso and chatter. Mira stood in line scrolling through her phone, half-asleep, half-panicking about her inbox.
She took exactly one step back to let a barista pass—
And collided directly into him.
A tall man. Sharp jawline. Deep brown eyes. Expensive suit. And in his hand—
A very full latte.
Which promptly launched forward
and
splattered
across
her white blouse.
The café froze.
Mira froze.
The man froze.
“Oh my god,” Mira whispered.
“Oh my god,” he echoed simultaneously.
They stared at each other like two idiots in a silent film.
“You—You spilled your entire personality on me,” Mira sputtered, looking down at the brown stain shaped like a distorted map of South America.
“My personality?” the man repeated.
“Your personality is clearly latte. And now it’s on my shirt!”
“I— I was avoiding someone behind me!” he defended.
“You avoided them by attacking me?!”
“You stepped backward!”
“You stepped forward!”
The barista nearby slowly backed away.
The man exhaled sharply, rubbing his forehead. “Look. I’m sorry. This is entirely my fault. I can reimburse you.”
“It’s not about the money,” Mira snapped. “It’s the emotional trauma.”
He blinked. “Of… coffee?”
“Yes! Of starting my day swimming in steamed milk!”
A corner of his mouth twitched — possibly a laugh he was trying to hide.
“Let’s start over,” he said. “I’m Ethan.”
“I’m Mira,” she said stiffly. “In case you plan to file a police report for assaulting my dignity.”
Ethan sighed and rolled up his sleeves. “Let me fix this.”
He whipped out his phone.
“What are you doing?” Mira asked, narrowing her eyes. “Calling security? Ordering a replacement latte to throw at me?”
“No. Ordering you a new shirt.” He typed fast. “There’s a clothing shop one block away. Thirty-minute delivery.”
Mira blinked. “You’re buying me a whole new shirt?”
“Yes.”
“Do you always carry guilt money?”
“Only on days ending with Y.”
Mira tried not to smile.
Too late — Ethan caught it.
He raised an eyebrow. “Ah. She smiles.”
“That was NOT a smile,” Mira lied.
“That was absolutely a smile.”
“Hallucinations,” she declared. “Side effects of excessive caffeine spills.”
The delivery arrived shockingly fast. Not only a shirt, but also a warm towel, cold towel, bottle of water, packet of cookies, and a tiny note that said “Sorry again. —E.”
Mira glared at him. “This is too much.”
“You look stressed,” Ethan said. “The cookies are for emotional stabilization.”
“I don’t need emotional stabilization!”
Her stomach growled loudly.
“…Fine,” she mumbled.
Ethan grinned victoriously.
Mira marched off to change in the bathroom, and when she came back, Ethan lifted his head from his laptop.
“It fits,” he said warmly.
“Well spotted, Sherlock.”
“Are you always like this?” he asked.
“Like what?”
“Sarcastic. Chaotic. Cute.”
“Excuse me? I— I am not chaotic!”
A barista passed, looked at Mira, then at Ethan, and whispered, “You should’ve seen how she jumped when her phone buzzed. Totally chaotic.”
“TRAITOR!” Mira yelled after him.
Ethan laughed so hard his shoulders shook.
Mira tried very hard not to find that adorable.
“So,” he said, leaning on his elbows, “since I nearly destroyed your morning, may I buy you another coffee? One that ends up in your mouth instead of your torso?”
Mira narrowed her eyes. “Are you flirting with the victim?”
“Is it working?”
“…absolutely not.”
He smirked. “Then I’ll keep trying.”
And somehow, despite the disaster, despite the stain on her old shirt and the embarrassment of the entire café watching…
Mira’s morning didn’t feel ruined anymore.
It felt… strangely promising.
Chaotic, yes.
But promising.
