Sara pushed open the door to the HoneyComb Café, immediately greeted by the rich scent of vanilla and fresh coffee. It was definitely a fancy spot—polished floors, soft jazz playing in the background, and the café's name elegantly etched in gold on the glass front. It screamed expensive.
"Glad I got a better job," she muttered to herself. "One coffee here and my old paycheck would've vanished."
The place wasn't too crowded. A few quiet patrons sat with their laptops or books, sipping drinks. Her eyes scanned the café, searching for him. She only vaguely remembered Elijah's face from that chaotic night, but somehow she knew she'd recognize him if she saw him.
And she did.
There he was, sitting alone at a center table, speaking into his phone, his face serious and focused. For a second,
