The sun blazed mercilessly over the university grounds, turning the air into a shimmering haze. Sunglasses and summer hats dotted the sprawling lawns like scattered seashells, students sprawled on picnic blankets or lounging beneath the shade of ancient oaks. Laughter and the clink of iced drinks filled the heavy air—everyone surrendering to the unexpected early summer heat.
Everyone except Rayla.
The late afternoon sun poured through Moonbean’s floor-to-ceiling windows, casting honeyed light across the distressed oak tables and newly leather armchairs. The scent of freshly ground espresso beans and warm cinnamon mingled with the faint saltiness drifting in through the propped-open door. Students and locals alike crowded the space—some hunched over textbooks with iced coffees sweating on
