The café hummed with the subdued murmur of early risers as Carlos scanned the morning paper. He was such a regular that the waiter wordlessly slid a steaming latte across the table—no sugar, just how he always took it.
Fifteen minutes later, the door swung open. A woman in sleek shades sauntered in, her entrance dripping with practiced confidence. At this hour, the sparse crowd made it easy to spot Carlos by the window—his alabaster complexion still unfairly radiant, that sharp profile unchanged since their school days.
Cherl remembered their first encounter like it was yesterday: him framed by a second-story classroom window, her peering down from the floor above. He'd always claimed that seat, gaze fixed on something below with a slight frown.
Back then, she'd been spellbound by his i
