Love is a poison. To love someone and not be able to stand beside her… I don't think anything hurts more.
Several thoughts drifted through my mind as I stared at the white ceiling. It's been almost a month since we enrolled in Northvale, and life has already slipped into a quiet rhythm—morning classes, part-time shifts, and the occasional café meetup with the guys.
One thing that is interesting is that I still don't understand why Valen insists on going back to the same café we went on the first day so often.
Although… I have a hunch.
Her name is Cindy.
Valen probably hasn't realized it himself. But the way he acts… well, it's hard not to notice.
Then again, maybe I'm just imagining things.
Tomorrow was vacation, so I was thinking of watching a movie or gaming for a while. But the thought faded as soon as a knock sounded at my door.
Knock… knock…
I opened the door to see Ryan and Valen standing there. Ryan's hair was messy and his eyes half-closed—clearly dragged here against his will.
"Val wants to say something. Don't ask me what," Ryan muttered, rubbing his eyes.
I nodded and stepped aside to let them in. After turning on the lights, Valen and Ryan sat at the table while I took the chair opposite them.
"So…" I leaned back. "What's the matter?"
Valen looked unusually uneasy.
"I need some advice," he said quietly.
"Ask away."
"Well, the thing is…" He took a breath and began explaining.
He talked about the café—how, from the very first day, something felt different. He didn't know why, but he kept finding reasons to go back. Over the past month, he'd been visiting regularly, always with a coffee or book in hand… and always glancing toward the same girl.
Cindy.
The girl he involuntarily nodded at.
"I keep looking at her," Valen admitted, frustration slipping into his voice. "Even when I'm studying. Even when I try not to. I don't understand why I'm like this."
He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply.
"I don't know what's happening to me. I was hoping you guys could help."
Ryan slowly lifted his head, blinking as if he had just woken up for real. Then a grin—wide, dangerous, mischievous—spread across his face.
"Ohhhh," he said, leaning forward with sudden energy. "So that's why you've been dragging us to the same café every other day."
Valen frowned. "What? No—"
Ryan raised both hands dramatically. "Ladies and gentlemen—" he looked around the empty room as if there were an audience— "we have a man in love."
"Ryan," Valen said sharply, but his ears were already turning red.
Ryan ignored him completely.
"You're telling me you study there? Really? Because every time we go, your eyes are doing more cardio than your brain."
I snorted before I could stop myself.
Ryan pointed at me triumphantly. "See? Even Sol agrees! Val, you don't stare at your textbooks like that. If you did, you'd be top of the class already."
Valen buried his face in his hands. "This was a mistake. I shouldn't have asked you."
Ryan scooted closer, slinging an arm around his shoulder. "No, no, this was the right choice. You came to the love expert."
"You're single," Valen deadpanned.
Ryan paused… then shrugged. "Details."
I chuckled quietly.
Ryan leaned in, eyes sparkling. "Okay, but seriously—Cindy, huh? You've fallen for the girl who made you nod like a malfunctioning robot."
Valen groaned. "Please stop."
"Never," Ryan declared proudly. "This is the greatest entertainment I've had since coming to Northvale."
I shook my head, smiling despite myself.
Valen looked like he regretted his entire life.
Ryan was still grinning when I finally spoke.
"Alright, that's enough," I said, giving him a light push. "Let the guy breathe."
Ryan backed off with an exaggerated sigh, though the smile never left his face.
Valen looked at me, still tense, still confused.
I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the table.
"Val," I said quietly, "you don't need to understand everything right away."
He blinked, surprised by the gentleness in my voice.
"Sometimes," I continued, "you meet someone… and your mind reacts before your thoughts catch up. It doesn't mean you're crazy. It doesn't mean you're in love. It just means something about her stood out to you."
Valen's shoulders relaxed slightly.
"Maybe it's her presence. Maybe it's the way she carries herself. Maybe it's the environment. Or maybe…" I paused, lifting my eyes to meet his, "it's simply the first thing in Northvale that made you feel something real."
He swallowed hard, as if the words hit deeper than he expected.
"You don't need an answer tonight," I said. "Just… don't run from it. Observe it. Let time tell you what it really is."
Ryan nodded dramatically. "Wow. So poetic. So deep. Sol, why don't you write a romance novel?"
I shot him a look. "Ryan."
"Okay, okay," he said, raising his hands.
Valen let out a breath he'd been holding.
"Thanks," he said quietly. "Both of you… even though one of you is annoying."
Ryan grinned. "You love me."
"No," Valen said flatly.
We all laughed. They left after a few minutes. I turned off the light. Sat on the chair.
Was I the same when I fell hopelessly for her? I leaned back. I closed my eyes and sighed.
***
Evening had settled over the city, and the café was at its busiest hour.
Warm lights glowed against the glass windows, and the steady hum of conversation filled the air—laughter from a corner table, the clink of cups, the hiss of the espresso machine.
Cindy moved between tables with practiced ease, her cream blouse neatly tucked beneath her caramel-colored apron. She delivered drinks, took orders, cleaned trays… but even as she worked, her eyes kept drifting—again and again—toward the entrance.
Isn't he coming today? He comes almost every day…
The thought lingered in her mind longer than it should have. With every passing minute, her attention slipped toward the door, hopeful, unsure.
And as she placed a latte on a nearby table, her heart whispered a name.
Valen.
The black-haired, brown-eyed youth—the one who had helped her two weeks ago.
Her memory replayed itself vividly.
Two weeks ago
The café wasn't as crowded then, but even on a slower day, tension could fill the room with just one troublesome customer.
He looked like a university student—around her age, maybe slightly older.
At first he flirted lightly, but soon it became uncomfortable.
"Come on, just your number," he insisted, leaning too close.
Cindy kept her tone polite. "I'm sorry, I can't share private information with customers."
But the boy didn't listen.
His expression darkened with irritation.
"Tch. Why are you acting like you're so special?"
Before she could step back, he grabbed her wrist.
Hard.
"I'm not letting go unless you give me your number."
A few customers turned at the raised voice, frowning. Cindy froze, heart pounding, feeling trapped.
Then—
Another hand suddenly seized the boy's wrist.
Firm. Unshaking.
"If she said no, she means no," a calm voice said.
"And if you had any manners, you'd respect her instead of embarrassing yourself."
Cindy's eyes widened.
It was the quiet customer who always sat in the corner with a book—the one who nodded to her that day. She had noticed him before, of course, but never like this.
He stood tall beside her—black hair slightly messy, brown eyes sharp behind his rectangular glasses. His grip on the boy's wrist was steady, his expression unreadable but firm.
The boy stuttered, shrinking under the sudden attention of other customers now glaring at him.
"L-Let go," he muttered, pulling his arm back.
Valen didn't say another word.
He simply released him and stepped back—calm, composed, unbothered.
The troublesome customer grabbed his bag and hurried out, cheeks burning with humiliation.
Cindy stood frozen.
Her wrist was free, but her heartbeat wasn't.
She looked at Valen. Really looked.
He wasn't grand or loud.
He wasn't trying to show off.
He was steady. Quiet.
A presence that felt… safe.
"Thank you…" she whispered.
He simply nodded, pushing his glasses up slightly. "Don't worry about it."
After that day, something shifted.
They discovered they were both Northvale students.
Whenever Valen visited during her shift, they exchanged small conversations—nothing dramatic, just little moments:
"How's class today?"
"Is your shift tiring?"
"Try this drink—it's good."
He wasn't talkative, but his words were sincere.
He listened more than he spoke.
And somehow, that warmth in his eyes—calm, focused—pulled her in little by little.
Without noticing, Cindy found herself looking forward to his visits.
His study hours.
His quiet presence.
Even his awkward little nods.
Present.
Her shift was almost over now. The evening rush had slowed, lights dimming slightly as the café prepared for closing.
Cindy wiped down a table, but her gaze slipped once more toward the door.
No familiar figure.
No black hair.
No rectangular glasses.
Her chest tightened faintly.
"He really won't come today…?" she whispered under her breath.
And for the first time that evening, she realized—
She missed him.