Claire Bennet hated Mondays. They always came with spilled coffee, missed buses, and awkward encounters. Today was no exception.
She stormed into Mocha Magic, her favorite café in London, already fifteen minutes late for work. Her hair was frizzing from the rain, her umbrella had flipped inside out like a dying tulip, and—of course—her usual oat milk latte had been snatched by someone else.
"Excuse me!" she called out to the tall, annoyingly attractive man holding her drink. "That's mine."
He blinked, caught mid-sip. "You ordered a large oat milk latte with extra cinnamon and a motivational quote on the side?"
Claire nodded, hands on hips. "I need that quote to survive my day."
The man glanced at the cup. "It says, 'Slay the day, Claire.'" He paused. "Well… I'm not Claire."
"I guessed that," she said dryly.
He handed her the cup with a sheepish grin. "Sorry. I panicked. The barista was scary."
"And now I'm late and mildly latte-less."
"Let me make it up to you. I'll buy your coffee tomorrow. Same place, same time?"
Claire raised an eyebrow. "Are you flirting with me or just guilty?"
"Can't it be both?" he asked with a wink.
She rolled her eyes—but couldn't stop the smile. "Fine. But I want a muffin too. Compensation for emotional damage."
The next morning, Claire showed up mostly to prove she wasn't bluffing. And there he was—Mr. Latte Thief—waiting with a coffee in one hand and a muffin balanced on top.
"Good morning, Miss Claire. Here's your peace offering."
She took the cup. "'Slay the day, Muffin Queen'...?" She laughed. "Okay, I'm impressed."
"I'm Jamie. Graphic designer. Terrible at recognizing names on cups."
"I'm Claire. PR assistant. Terrible at mornings and most social interactions."
They started meeting for coffee daily. It became their thing—muffins, banter, occasional accidental flirting.
Claire even forgot Mondays existed.
After two weeks of coffee chemistry, Jamie asked her out. "Real dinner. No caffeine. No muffins. Just you and me."
Claire agreed. She regretted it the moment she walked into the restaurant in a little black dress and saw—
Her boss.
"Claire?" said her boss, shocked. "You're dating my nephew?"
Claire froze.
"You're… his uncle?" Jamie said, looking equally horrified.
"Yes. Which means I now know you've been late to work because of him."
Claire gulped her wine.
This date was going wonderfully.
Claire avoided Jamie after that. She started going to a different coffee shop—one that didn't serve heartbreak with whipped cream.
A week later, Jamie showed up outside her office holding a sign:"Forgive me. I'll never steal your latte again. Or your heart without permission."
People stared. Someone clapped. Claire tried not to smile.
He handed her a muffin. "Blueberry. Your favorite. I swear I didn't flirt my way into your life just to mess it up."
She bit the muffin. "This has extra cinnamon. You remembered."
Jamie stepped closer. "I remember everything about you. Even the way you say 'emotional damage' like a rom-com villain."
She laughed. "You are annoying."
"But you like annoying."
She sighed dramatically. "Fine. One more chance."
Six months later, Jamie proposed—at Mocha Magic, of course. Her cup that day read:
"Will you marry me, Muffin Queen?"
Claire read it and looked up at him. "You're still stealing my drinks."
Jamie grinned. "And now I want to steal your last name."
They got married on a rainy Monday.
The café catered.
The quote on their wedding cake?
"Slay the day. Steal the heart."