Juliette:
The bell above the café door chimed softly as I stepped inside, the warmth from the heaters instantly chasing away the cool September breeze clinging to my coat. The place was already half full with students and regulars—some bent over laptops, others chatting over pastries—but it didn’t take me long to spot Anna in our usual corner booth by the window.
She had her AirPods in and a thick psychology textbook cracked open, her highlighter working overtime. A tall latte with foam art sat beside her, untouched. Right next to it was another one—mine, judging by the cinnamon dusted on top.
Anna knew me too well.
I slid into the booth across from her with a quiet sigh, and she glanced up, tugging one of her earbuds free.
“There she is,” she said, smiling. “Saved your spot and your
