Coffee, Lies and My Student's Dad

Chapter 4: The Borrowed Warmth

Elara Dwijaya

Dio scanned the outdoor area for a split second before his gaze settled back on me. His expression was a map of confusion, yet there was no trace of rejection in the set of his jaw. He looked like a man trying to solve a puzzle that had suddenly appeared on his doorstep.

Around us, the casual chatter of the other patrons dipped. I felt the weight of their stares. It was inevitable. A woman in an ivory silk cocktail dress standing stiffly in the middle of a rustic, industrial coffee shop was the definition of being out of place. I looked like I had taken a wrong turn on the way to a gala and ended up in a garage.

"I... I was passing by and happened to see you—" My tongue tripped over the words.

"I mean, I saw Lyra."

The sentence tumbled out far too quickly. I gripped the strap of my clutch, my knuckles turning white. I tried to summon a normal smile, but my heart was still sprinting, a lingering tremor from the blowout with Rei.

Dio nodded slowly, still holding his small dessert spoon. Before I could manufacture a more logical excuse for my sudden appearance, Lyra was already in motion. She scrambled down from her father’s lap, her small feet thumping against the wooden deck. She skidded to a halt in front of me, her eyes widening as they swept over my dress.

"Ms. Ela! You look like a princess!"

Heat bloomed across my cheeks instantly. A child’s compliment was the only currency in the world that felt entirely honest. I leaned down slightly, smoothing a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

"Thank you, sweetheart."

"What are you doing here with your Dad?" I asked softly, my voice finally finding its rhythm.

Lyra spun around, snatched a tablet from the table, and thrust it toward me like a trophy.

"Learning, Ms. Ela! Look!"

The screen displayed a vibrant educational app. A cartoon duck was dancing rhythmically to a phonics song.

"Wow, what a smart girl." I tapped the screen, offering her a genuine grin.

Swoosh.

A sudden gust of night air swept through the patio. My dress was a sleeveless sabrina cut, leaving my shoulders and neck completely defenseless against the elements. The chill bit into my skin immediately, raising goosebumps along my arms.

I instinctively hugged myself, a small shiver racking my frame.

Dio set his spoon down. He rose from his chair with a fluid, predatory grace, his height suddenly looming over me. He seemed to block out the streetlights, creating a private pocket of space just for us.

"If you aren't in a hurry, Ms. Ela... why don't we head inside? The wind is picking up out here."

I looked at the glass doors of the cafe. The interior glowed with a warm, amber light that promised sanctuary.

"I’d like that," I replied.

Dio gestured for me to lead the way. I took Lyra’s small, warm hand in mine, and together we stepped toward the entrance.

Chime.

The bell above the door announced our arrival. The air inside was a thick, intoxicating blend of freshly ground beans and the buttery sweetness of pastries. It was a sensory hug, far superior to the humid, judgmental air of the street.

But the peace lasted exactly three seconds.

"Whoa! Look at the boss’s lady!"

The voice cracked like a whip from behind the bar. A young barista with shaggy hair was grinning ear to ear while polishing a glass.

Several regulars sitting on the window sofas turned in unison.

"Damn, she’s stunning, man!" one of them called out.

Another man, leaning back in a leather jacket while exhaling a cloud of vapor, chimed in with a lazy smirk.

"Well, well, Bro Dio... always the quiet ones, aren't they?"

My face felt like it was being held over an open flame. I tucked my head down, pretending to be intensely fascinated by the alignment of Lyra’s hair clips. My fingers twisted together in a knot of sheer awkwardness.

"Stop it," Dio interjected, his voice dropping an octave into a warning growl.

"This is Lyra’s teacher. She was just passing by."

"The 'Teacher-Parent' romance trope? That’s straight out of a movie, Boss! I love it!" a guy in the corner shouted.

"Hush! Watch your mouth. There’s a child present," Dio snapped, though I noticed the tips of his ears were turning a distinct shade of crimson.

Laughter erupted across the room. It was the sound of a tight-knit community, loud and teasing. Dio turned to me, his expression softening into one of genuine apology.

"I’m sorry, Ms. Ela. They’re regulars. Their mouths don't have brakes."

"It’s... it’s fine, Mr. Dio." I forced a stiff smile, though my lips felt like they were made of wood.

Dio pointed toward a secluded corner shielded by a row of artificial ferns.

"Let's sit over there. It’s quieter."

I nodded gratefully. Lyra held onto my hand as if she expected me to vanish if she let go. We reached a circular wooden table, and Dio lifted Lyra effortlessly, tucking her into her seat. I sat opposite him, carefully arranging the silk of my skirt so it wouldn't snag on the rustic furniture.

Slowly, the cafe returned to its natural hum. The hecklers went back to their laptops and chess games. On a wall-mounted TV, a football match played out in silent motion.

"So, what can I get you to drink?" Dio asked, his composure returning.

I glanced at the menu board behind the bar.

"A hot cappuccino, please."

"Coming right up."

Dio offered a faint, fleeting smile before heading to the bar. I saw him lean over the counter, likely giving the shaggy-haired barista a final, stern warning.

I turned my attention to Lyra. She was deep in thought, her brow furrowed in a way that was dangerously adorable.

"Wait, Ms. Ela!"

She scrambled down from her chair, darting between the tables before disappearing through a door marked Private. I sat there, blinking in confusion.

A moment later, the sound of small, hurried footsteps returned. Lyra reappeared, breathless, clutching a large workbook and a pencil case to her chest.

She climbed back into her seat and slammed the book onto the table with a triumphant thud.

"Ms. Ela, help me with my homework?" Her eyes blinked rapidly, full of hope.

I let out a soft laugh.

"That’s cheating, isn't it? If the teacher does the work?"

Lyra giggled, pulling out a blunt pencil.

"You’re a guest right now. So it’s not cheating. It’s... collaboration."

I shook my head, impressed.

"Your vocabulary is something else. Fine, let's see it."

I moved to the empty chair Dio had pulled up earlier, sitting right beside her so I could see the pages. We began working on sentence structures. I guided her hand, making sure she didn't flip her 'b's and 'd's.

"Slow down. Keep it inside the lines."

Lyra nodded solemnly. Suddenly, a blast of cold air from the AC vent directly above us hit the back of my neck.

Brrr.

I shivered again. This dress was a disaster for climate-controlled environments. I rubbed my upper arms vigorously, trying to generate some friction. Lyra didn't notice; she was too busy staring at a blank line.

"Now, write one sentence about your favorite thing," I explained.

"Like, 'I like storybooks'. Try to make one yourself."

Lyra tapped her chin with the pencil. Her eyes drifted toward the bar, where her father was waiting for the coffee. A mischievous grin spread across her face.

"Ms. Ela... can I write 'I like Daddy'? Does Daddy count as a favorite thing?"

"Hahaha... oh, sweetie..."

Before I could answer, something heavy and warm landed on my shoulders.

It was thick. It was weighted. And the overwhelming, protective warmth of his presence swirled around me instantly.

"I’m not a 'thing', Lyra," the baritone voice rumbled right against my ear.

Lyra burst into giggles, covering her mouth with her hands.

I turned my head sharply. My heart stopped for a beat. Dio was standing directly behind my chair. He was adjusting his denim jacket, which was now draped over my bare shoulders. His hands didn't touch my skin, but the radiant heat of his body was inches away.

He moved to the side, placing a steaming cup of cappuccino on the table, well away from Lyra’s books. He sat down in the chair opposite us, wearing nothing but a plain black t-shirt now.

"Um... Mr. Dio..." I gripped the lapels of the oversized jacket.

"This is..."

"You looked like you were freezing," Dio interrupted. He rubbed the back of his neck, looking uncharacteristically flustered.

"I... uh... I hope the jacket doesn't smell?"

"What? No! It smells great!" I blurted out.

The silence that followed was deafening. I realized my response had been way too enthusiastic.

"Oooooh!"

The shout came in a perfect, mocking harmony from the bar.

The entire cafe turned again. Dimas was actually clapping. The old men playing chess in the corner started whistling.

"She said it smells great, boys!"

"Go for it, Bro Dio! Don't let her go!"

My face wasn't just red anymore; it was purple. The heat spread all the way to the tips of my ears. I ducked my head, hiding behind the curtain of my hair. Dio was no better. He covered his face with one hand, shaking his head in silent resignation.

"Daddy, why is your face red? And Ms. Ela too?" Lyra asked innocently.

I took a long, shaky breath, trying to stabilize my pulse.

"It’s... it’s nothing, honey. Maybe the Air Conditioner is broken," I lied poorly.

I pulled the chair closer, pretending to focus on the workbook. But my eyes betrayed me, flickering upward. Dio was peeking at me through the gaps in his fingers.

Our gazes met.

Pfft.

We both looked down at the same time, our shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter. The situation was absurd, humiliating, and entirely public. But for some reason, as I pulled his warm jacket tighter around me, it felt like the best part of my year.