Chapter One: Coincidental Meet
873 Words
“Good morning. Can I get a cup of coffee, no sugar, and a slice of vanilla bread?”
The voice was calm, deep, familiar, so familiar it made Hazel pause mid-stir. She was behind the counter, already juggling a dozen other thoughts, tea for a customer, the morning rush, bills she hadn’t paid, but that voice… it made her stop. Her hand froze, spoon hovering in the air.
She turned.
And there he was.
Javen.
The wooden spoon nearly slipped. For a second, everything else in the café blurred, the hum of the coffee machine, chatter from the back, even the soft jazz floating through the speakers—it all disappeared. Just him. Leaning slightly on the counter, like he’d been waiting for her all this time.
He looked older. Broader. More composed. But those eyes… they hadn’t changed. Not one bit.
“Hazel?” His smile was uneven, nervous, familiar.
She blinked. “Javen… wow. It’s really you.”
“In the flesh,” he said, chuckling softly. “Still remember me?”
“You were… kind of hard to forget,” she admitted, laughing nervously.
He leaned a little closer, elbows resting lightly on the counter. “So, one coffee, no sugar. Still a simple man, huh?”
Hazel turned toward the espresso machine, forcing herself to act normal. “Some things never change.”
“Guess not.” His eyes lingered on her. “You still work here?”
“For almost three years,” she said. “I manage the morning shifts.”
“Impressive. You were always focused.”
“Focused and tired,” she muttered, and then laughed softly.
She poured the coffee, letting the steam curl up around her fingers. Her hands were steady, but her heartbeat… it wasn’t. Not at all.
“You know,” he said after a moment, “I wasn’t even planning to stop here. Just saw the sign outside. The smell of freshly baked bread drew me in.”
Hazel placed the cup before him. “Vanilla bread does that sometimes.”
He smiled, that easy, slow smile. “You remember I used to love that.”
“I do. You’d buy two slices—one for me, even when I pretended I didn’t want it.”
He laughed. “And you never fooled me.”
“I still don’t want it,” she teased, though her cheeks warmed anyway.
“Some things never change, huh?”
Hazel froze. That spark—the quiet pull she’d tried to ignore—was back.
“So,” she said, “what brings you here?”
“Business trip,” he said, sipping the coffee. “Been in Port Harcourt. Just here a few days.”
“Huh. You always said you’d travel.”
“And you always said you’d stay close to home,” he replied faintly smiling. “Looks like we both kept our word.”
Their eyes met for a brief second, and she quickly looked away.
“You look good, Hazel,” he said softly.
“Thanks. You too,” she murmured, forcing her attention on the counter.
“Feels strange, doesn’t it?” he continued. “Seeing someone from before. Like a completely different lifetime.”
“Yeah,” she whispered. “Everything felt… easier back then.”
“Easier, or just naïve?”
“Maybe both.”
He watched her quietly, then asked carefully, “Do you ever think about it? About what might’ve happened if we—”
“Don’t,” she cut him off, soft but firm.
He nodded, looking down. “Right. Sorry.”
“It’s fine,” she whispered, even though her chest felt tight.
Silence returned, soft but heavy. Cups clinked. Coffee hissed. Jazz drifted. Then she asked, “Life? Family?”
“Good. Busy. Wife’s great. Two kids now,” he said quietly.
Hazel swallowed. “That’s… nice.”
“What about you?” he asked gently.
“Still finding my rhythm, I guess,” she said.
“Still the same Hazel,” he said, smiling faintly. “Quietly chasing peace.”
She turned to adjust the display tray, mostly to avoid him. “Your bread’s ready,” she murmured.
Their fingers brushed as she set the plate down. Brief. Electric. Charged. Neither spoke.
He took a slow bite. “You were right. Vanilla still tastes like home.”
Home. The word hit her chest like a soft punch. That was exactly what he still felt like. And she hated that it did.
“Glad you like it,” she whispered.
He stood, glancing at his watch. “I should go. Meeting in thirty minutes.”
She nodded, wiping the counter, though it was already spotless. “Take care, Javen.”
He smiled—that uneven grin from years ago. “See you around, Hazel.”
He walked to the door, paused, and stared back. For a second, she thought he might say something—dangerous, honest, real—but he only nodded lightly and left.
The door chimed softly behind him. Hazel stared at the half-empty cup. Her reflection shimmered faintly on the counter glass.
Ten years had passed. And yet one voice, one look, made everything inside her remember.
- Writer
