"Table seven, one Coffee, extra cream!"
The barista's voice cut across the soft murmur of chatter and the hiss of the espresso machine.
Cups clinked, and behind those, someone laughed from a corner booth where two students were sharing a laptop.
The smell of toasted croissants and roasted beans lingered in the air, a kind of calm that made the world outside feel slower.
Noah Sarin sat near the window, a stack of folders balanced beside his elbow.
His coat was slung across the chair behind him, sleeves rolled up, half-empty latte cooling at his side.
When Leo appeared, Noah looked up immediately, breaking into a smile that seemed to come from a place both relieved and quietly grateful.
"Leo," he said, getting up to shake his hand. "I'm glad you came."
"Of course," Leo replied easily, dropping into the seat opposite him. "I said I would, didn't I?"
Noah chuckled, lowering himself back down.
"You'd be surprised how often most people I meet forget that part of the deal."
