8:07 PM — The Quiet Brew Café
Brooklyn, New York
The last customer had left. The chairs were stacked. The windows were dimmed. Katherine had just finished wiping down the espresso machine when she heard the soft knock.
She didn’t go immediately.
She let him wait for a moment.
Then she walked over and unlocked the door, pushing it open. The cold from the outside rushed in with him, but her eyes were colder.
Kingsley stepped inside, slowly, as if unsure if he’d be allowed to.
Before he could say hi or even draw a breath—
“I am not a substitute.”
Her voice hit like glass. No softness. No curve. Just sharp edges.
“I am beyond a substitute, Kingsley,” she continued, folding her arms. “You don’t just get to come to me every time your life goes off the rails. I’m not your emergency exit
