Chapter Two: The Routine
689 Words
It started one morning.
Then another.
And another.
Javen began showing up at the café like clockwork. Always at the same hour, when the sunlight was soft and the air still smelled like freshly baked bread. Hazel told herself it was a coincidence, but she started looking forward to that sound — the door chime, the soft shuffle of his shoes, the calm in his voice.
“Morning,” he’d say, eyes steady on hers.
She’d smile, pretending it was nothing. “Black coffee, no sugar?”
He’d nod. “You still remember.”
And she’d laugh, quiet and short, like she was afraid of what might come out if she didn’t stop herself.
He wasn’t like the other customers — the ones who came in half-asleep, glued to their phones, rushing through the morning. Javen took his time. Sometimes he stood by the counter, sometimes he sat by the window, pretending to read while sneaking glances her way.
And Hazel noticed. Oh yes, she always noticed.
“Who’s got you smiling like that?” Ada teased one morning, snapping her fingers before Hazel’s face.
Hazel blinked. “What?”
“The fine man who comes every day is so hot.
He seems he's been really getting you.”
Hazel rolled her eyes, trying to hide her grin. “He’s just a customer.”
Ada scoffed. “A customer who makes you wipe the counter like it owes you money? Please, Ada, not right now.”
Hazel laughed, shaking her head. “You’re ridiculous.”
But Ada wasn’t wrong. She just couldn’t admit it.
The next morning, he came earlier than usual.
“You’re early,” Hazel said, glancing up as he entered.
“So are you,” he replied. “Couldn’t sleep.”
She smiled faintly. “You and me both.”
Javen leaned against the counter. “Then I guess we’re both looking for something warm to start the day.”
She handed him his usual. “Black coffee, no sugar.”
He took a sip, eyes still on her. “You make it better than anywhere else.”
“Do you tell that to every barista?” she asked, teasing but light.
“Only the one who remembers.”
Their eyes lingered, and for a moment neither looked away. Hazel’s chest felt tight — not in a bad way, just… full.
That’s when she noticed the ring on his finger. Simple, silver, gleaming under the café lights.
“You’re married?” she asked, almost whispering.
“Engaged,” he said softly. “She’s in the UK.”
“Oh.” Hazel’s voice faltered, but she forced a small smile. “That’s nice.”
He nodded slowly. “Yeah. Some days, it feels far.”
She didn’t respond, just turned to fix the pastry tray. Her hand trembled slightly.
Then he noticed her ring too. “You’re taken?” he asked, light but curious.
Hazel hesitated. “Yeah.”
“Happy?”
She gave a small laugh that didn’t sound like one. “We’re… okay. Life gets busy.”
Javen’s gaze softened. “You used to laugh more easily. You know that?”
She froze. “You remember that?”
He nodded. “You always laughed like the world couldn’t touch you.”
Her heart thudded. “Well, People change.”
“Maybe,” he said quietly. “Or maybe they just stop being seen.”
For a moment, neither spoke. The coffee machine hummed, rain started tapping the windows, and everything else just… faded.
Hazel finally whispered, “You’ll be late if you stay any longer.”
He smiled. “Maybe I don’t mind being late for good coffee.”
She looked up at him then, and the air between them shifted — soft, warm, almost dangerous.
Their fingers brushed when he reached for his cup. A spark, brief but alive.
“See you tomorrow,” he said, his voice lower now.
Hazel didn’t answer until he was gone. Then she caught herself smiling again — not the polite one she wore for everyone else, but the quiet, helpless kind that found her whenever he did.
- Writer
