Miranda didn't sleep that night after the cafe closed for the day.
She lay on her side, staring at the Chandelier in the ceiling that she'd stared at a thousand times during panic attacks, lonely dawns, and silent nights where she listened for small movements within the house just to reassure herself life hadn't abandoned her entirely.
But tonight, the glimmering Chandelier felt different.
She felt different.
Because Ralpheal had kissed her.
Because she had let him.
And because she enjoyed it.
Her fingers, curled against her pillow, tingled with memories that weren't supposed to exist. His hand over hers. His breath on her cheek. His eyes, dark, intent, like he wanted to swallow the world just to taste her.
She inhaled sharply and shut her eyes.
This is crazy. This is weak. This is dangerous.
Miranda rolled onto her back, exhaled a shaky breath, and pushed her palm over her eyes.
She wasn't supposed to want anyone, apart from Ben.
She was a married woman, after all. Her heart should have been a guarded fortress by now. Or at least… that was what she had always believed.
Because Yet, lying alone in the quiet, her thoughts betrayed her.
She found herself unable to keep away from thinking about Ralphael's warmth, the solid planes of his rock-hard abs that spoke of disciplined work outs, and his sizable arousal, the undeniable proof of his desire that she had felt, pressed against her body. The memory alone made heat rush to her cheeks. Her breath hitched as her hand slid beneath the covers, reaching instinctively for her rose toy.
Soon a soft, muffled buzz filled the room.
Underneath the duvet, Miranda's body writhed in response to the rising waves of pleasure spreading out from her core, slow at first, then stronger, spreading in warm, relentless waves.
In her mind, it wasn't the toy that touched her, she imagined Raphael was the one stimulating the pleasure within her and her toe curling up as the sensation built and a magical burst of overwhelming sweetness ravaged her until it consumed her completely.
Raphael's flushed red face as the both finished together was the last thing she saw before she dozed off.
, ---At the Café, Next day, Morning, ---
The bell above the café door chimed softly as Miranda unlocked it. Morning light spilled across tables and chairs, the familiar warm wood, the faint smell of espresso beans, the chalkboard menu she rewrote every few weeks.
She breathed in the comfort of routine.
But her chest still felt unsettled, as though last night had cracked something open.
Her sister Ada arrived first, carrying a basket of muffins.
"Morning," she greeted, dropping the basket on the counter. "You look like you slept with your eyes open."
Miranda forced a smile. "Just tired."
Camille Smiled mischievously. "Just kidding, you actually look kind of refreshed, Anything good happen?"
Miranda rolled her eyes as she tied her apron . "How's your studies? Did you pick up the new pack I asked for?"
Ada snorted. "Deflection queen. But fine. I'll let you escape, for now."
Miranda hid her smile as she wiped down tables.
The morning rush began, familiar faces, regulars, murmurs of conversation, clinking cups. She lost herself in small tasks.
Until the bell chimed again.
She didn't need to look up to know who it was.
Her body knew before her brain did, her pulse stuttered, her breath shortened, her fingers tightened around the tray.
Aleksander walked in like trouble wrapped in a calm, expensive coat. His presence filled the room instantly, quietly, inevitably.
He didn't smile immediately. He stood near the door, watching her with a lingering, unreadable expression. Like yesterday had affected him too. Like he had thought about her more than he should have.
Miranda swallowed and approached the counter.
"You're early," she said, hating how soft her voice sounded.
"I didn't sleep much," he replied.
Something in his tone made her glance away quickly.
Camille, behind her, mouthed:
Tell. Me. Everything.
Miranda pretended not to see.
Raphael stepped forward slowly. "I wanted to… apologize. For yesterday."
She froze.
He continued, voice low enough that only she could hear,
"I shouldn't have crossed that line. I didn't intend to make you uncomfortable."
Miranda's breath caught.
She forced her voice steady. "You didn't."
His eyes flicked to hers. Searching.
"So… I wasn't imagining it?" he murmured.
Her hand trembled slightly as she adjusted the cups behind the counter. She didn't know whether to confront his meaning or run from it.
"You weren't imagining anything," Ada muttered under her breath, passing by with a tray. Miranda shot her a death glare.
Raphael pretended not to hear, but Miranda saw the flicker of amusement in his eyes.
He stepped closer.
"Miranda."
There is something terribly intimate in the way he says her name.
She hated how much she felt it.
"I wanted to give you something," he said quietly.
Before she could protest, he reached into his coat pocket and placed a small box on the counter.
A single, neat rectangle. Not large. Not flashy. But expensive enough that she knew she shouldn't open it.
Miranda blinked hard.
"Raphael I can't, "
"It's for your sister," he said quickly. "Not for you."
That stunned her for a moment while in her mind she was like "Whatttt?"
Her hand hovered over the box, hesitant. "What is it?"
"A bracelet," he said softly.
Miranda's stomach twisted.
"Wait a minute, why her? How did you even know she was my sister?" she asked almost interrogatively, her tone with a hint of jealousy.
"I once heard her call you, Sis" Raphael replied, clearly enjoying her reaction.
She didn't open the box. She couldn't. Her emotions were too raw, too tangled.
"Well since it's for her, why don't you go give it to her instead" Miranda turned to walk away but in a flash, Raphael"s hand shot out and held her left wrist, halting her movement.
"Are you jealous?" he raised an eyebrow as he asked
"Of course not, why should I be jealous?" Miranda said without making eye contact.
"Good, you shouldn't be, because it's for you, I saw it and thought of you." he let go of her.
"I… don't know what to say," she whispered.
"'Thank you' is fine," he said gently, with a small, disarming smile.
She lifted her eyes to him, her heart pounding.
"Thank you," she whispered.
The café noise blurred around them. The customers, the espresso machine, the clatter of cups, they all faded. It felt like she and Raphael were in their own quiet pocket of the world.
He leaned slightly closer.
"Miranda… may I see you tonight?"
Her breath caught.
Her heart slammed.
"I… I don't know."
"Then don't decide yet," he murmured. "Just consider it."
His gaze dipped subtly, to her lips, before lifting again.
A faint touch of heat flickered in his expression.
Unmistakable.
But patient.
She felt her knees weaken.
Camile cleared her throat loudly from behind the counter. "Ma'am, we have customers. You may kiss the handsome man later."
Miranda almost threw a spoon at her.
Raphael stifled a laugh, then murmured,
"I'll come back tonight. If you don't want to see me… simply don't be here."
The way he said it, soft, confident, made her chest squeeze.
Then he left.
Later That Afternoon
Miranda tried burying herself in work, serving customers, washing mugs, prepping pastries.
But her mind kept drifting.
To Raphael's voice.
To the warmth in his eyes.
To yesterday.
To the kiss that still lingered in the air like a memory she wasn't supposed to keep.
Camile caught her staring into the sink for way too long.
"You're not washing your soul, sis. Just a cup."
Miranda shook herself. "Shut up."
Her sister softened. "Who's this man, he seems to like you but… does he know you're married?."
Miranda bit her lip. "That's… the problem."
Camile leaned against the counter. "He Doesn't right?"
"Yes," Miranda admitted quietly. "I… haven't gotten the chance"
Camile reached out, squeezing Miranda's right shoulder.
"Alright, you better do it fast, you wouldn't want to keep stringing him along"
Miranda didn't answer. She just stared at the bracelet box still hidden under the counter.
Should she see him tonight?
Should she keep quiet and let something new begin?
Should she even dare?
Nightfall
At 6:50 PM, Miranda stood behind the counter, her heart thudding as she wiped the same spot over and over.
The bell chimed.
Raphael walked in, dark coat, quiet presence, eyes warm but unsure.
He paused when he saw her.
"You stayed," he said softly.
Miranda drew a long breath.
"Yes."
He stepped closer, the tension between them shifting, thickening, like something inevitable.
His voice dropped to a whisper.
"Miranda… May I take you somewhere quiet tonight? Just to talk?"
Her fingers trembled.
Her heart was a storm.
"Yes," she whispered.
Raphael exhaled as though he'd been holding his breath all day.
He held out his hand.
She took it.
Her pulse thundered in her ears.
And as they walked out together,
everything she was afraid of
and everything she secretly wanted
collided in the same heartbeat.
Her mind warned her not to go, that something could happen between her and Raphael, that the right course of action would be to politely decline and inform him of her marital status and then head on home, in fact this would be the right time to break the news. But she didn't. Because deep down, maybe she wanted something to actually happen.