The café was winding down for the day. The late afternoon sun slanted through the windows, painting golden streaks across the gleaming countertop where Katherine wiped down the last coffee ring with a soft cloth. The place smelled like roasted espresso and warm vanilla—comforting, familiar, her little sanctuary in the world.
She glanced at the wall clock. Just fifteen more minutes and she could finally head home, sink into the couch, and maybe call Carolina to catch up about everything. It had been a long day.
Just as she turned toward the sink, the bell above the front door chimed.
She looked up.
And her eyes widened.
There stood Carolina, framed by the soft amber light of evening, holding a massive bouquet—bright pink peonies, white roses, tiny wildflowers—all exploding in vibrant c
