Chapter 11. The Latte That Saved Her Life
660 Words
The wind had eased into a gentle snowfall by the time Arielle stepped out of the bookstore with Noah. The wallet rested safely in her bag, heavier than it looked—because it wasn’t just money.
It was proof.
Proof that something had shifted.
Proof that her curse… her bad luck… wasn’t strangling her anymore.
She clutched her coat tighter as they walked. “I still can’t believe it. Returning this wallet might be the first good thing that’s happened to me all December.”
“Good things have a way of multiplying,” Noah murmured beside her.
She shot him a sideways look. “Are you always this mysterious?”
He didn’t answer—just smiled lightly, like he knew something she didn’t.
They reached Snowflake Café, the place she’d been fired from that very morning. The lights glowed warmly inside. The bell over the door jingled softly as she pushed it open.
Only three customers sat inside. The same barista who had replaced her behind the counter glanced up—and froze. Arielle ignored her, heading straight to the owner’s office.
Inside, Howard Prince looked up from his laptop. “Arielle? I thought—”
“I found this,” she said quickly, handing him the wallet.
His eyes widened. He opened it, checking its contents, then exhaled in visible relief. “You don’t know how important this is. Thank you. Truly.”
“You’re welcome,” she replied quietly.
He hesitated. Guilt softened his expression. “I’m sorry for letting you go earlier. It was rushed. The season is insane and—”
“It’s fine,” she cut him off. “Things happen.”
“Still,” he said, reaching into a drawer, “I owe you a favor. Anything I can do—just ask.”
Arielle blinked in surprise. “Anything?”
Before she could think of what to say, Noah’s voice drifted into the room from behind her.
“She’ll take a cup of your strongest holiday latte.”
Arielle whipped around. “Noah! I can speak for myself!”
Howard laughed. “Coming right up.”
Noah only shrugged, unbothered.
A moment later, Howard handed her a steaming paper cup decorated with tiny snowflakes. She curled her fingers around the warmth and inhaled the scent—cinnamon, nutmeg, vanilla, something creamy.
She took one sip.
And the universe jerked.
The floor vibrated.
A loud CRACK exploded outside.
Noah grabbed her hand. “Move!”
Howard dove under his desk.
Arielle stumbled backward as something slammed into the café wall—something heavy. People screamed. Snow dusted the floor as the window shook violently.
A delivery truck had skidded on ice and crashed straight into the lamppost right outside the shop… the exact spot she had been standing not even two minutes ago before coming inside.
Her heart pounded painfully.
Noah’s grip on her tightened. His voice was low, unsteady. “You would have been right there.”
Arielle stared at the cracked lamppost, at the steaming latte in her hand, at the little swirl of foam sliding down the lid.
“That’s… impossible,” she whispered.
Noah stepped closer, eyes burning with something she couldn’t name. “No, Arielle. It’s luck.”
Her throat tightened. “You think that latte saved my life?”
“No,” he said.
“You saved your own life the moment you made the right choice.”
She looked at him—really looked at him—and the bookstore glow flickered again in the back of her mind.
The sparkles.
The warmth.
The first miracle.
Her voice came out barely above a whisper. “Then this was miracle number two?”
Noah nodded slowly. “And trust me… they’ll only get stronger from here.”
Arielle clutched the warm cup to her chest.
For the first time in years, her curse wasn’t trying to ruin her.
Something—someone—was trying to protect her.
- Writer
