The little bell above the café door chimed as the two women stepped in.
Warm air. The faint scent of roasted beans and vanilla. The sound of clinking cups, gentle chatter, and indie jazz humming through the speakers.
Sophia blinked once. The place was familiar.
Of course it was.
Her eyes swept across the café as if casually—but she already knew what she was looking for.
Jane.
Clara, unaware, was already waving at Mr. Ben like an old friend. "Hey, Ben! Got space for two hospital zombies?"
"Always," he called back. "Your usual?"
"You know it."
Clara glanced at Sophia. "You're trying the house sandwich. Don't argue. It's life-changing."
Sophia didn't argue. Her eyes had quietly moved again—toward the bar counter.
And there she was.
Jane.
Pulled back into focus. Tying her apron behind her back. A loose strand of hair falling near her cheek as she placed a plate down for a customer, then turned—
She saw her.
Their eyes met.
A flicker of something—surprise? Curiosity?
Sophia didn't look away this time.
And Jane… didn't either.
Jane balanced two iced lattes on her tray, weaving carefully between tables, offering smiles that looked natural enough—until she turned and saw her again.
Sophia.
This time, she wasn't alone. A woman in a dark-green blazer—elegant, a bit chaotic—was chattering beside her like they were mid-debate. Sophia, as always, looked composed. Effortlessly so. That expensive kind of calm.
But what caught Jane off guard wasn't just seeing her again…
It was the fact that Sophia saw her too.
And said, almost too casually—
"Hi."
Jane froze for just a breath. The tray didn't wobble, but her chest tightened like something old and unfinished had surfaced.
Suddenly she wasn't standing in a café holding drinks.
She was standing in a quiet, rainy night. A car. A heartbeat of a moment.
"Do you know her?" the man from last night had asked.
And Sophia had said—
No.
Jane swallowed and turned her face back to the customer in front of her. "Here you go. Enjoy your drink."
The tray in her hand didn't wobble, but her fingers felt just a little too stiff.
She moved behind the counter quickly, just as Mr. Ben called out, "Jane, can you grab table seven? The hospital ladies just walked in."
She already knew.
Of course it was their table.
Of course it was.
"Sure," she said, polite.
She grabbed her notebook, plastered on a serviceable smile, and walked over.
Sophia sat there, hands folded neatly, watching her approach. Clara was the first to speak.
"Hi there! "You just walked in and already made my day. Feed me and I'll owe you my next five shifts." Clara grinned up at Jane.
Jane's smile tightened. "Glad I could help."
Sophia didn't speak at first. Just offered a small nod. "It's good to see you again."
Jane nodded, professional. "What can I get for you today?"
Clara leaned forward, completely oblivious to the undertone.
"Two house sandwiches. One black coffee for her," Clara said, nudging Sophia, "and a chai latte for me. No foam, extra honey, or I'll throw a mild tantrum."
Jane scribbled it down. "Got it."
Sophia glanced at Jane, then spoke—her voice lower, less formal. "You're working a double today?"
Jane hesitated. Just a second.
"Yes."
Clara raised a brow. "You two know each other?"
Jane looked at Sophia.
Sophia answered first.
"Briefly," she said. "A coincidence, really."
Jane didn't add anything. Just gave a soft nod and turned.
"Coming right up."
She walked back toward the counter, her smile fading the second her back turned.
Sophia's gaze lingered.
Clara watched her for a beat.
"You know, for someone who claims to know her briefly, you sure keep looking at her like she's an unsolved equation."
Sophia gave a small smirk. "Maybe I just appreciate clean handwriting."
Clara rolled her eyes but her tone softened, gaze drifting between them. "Uh huh. Just clean handwriting, huh?"
Jane returned with the tray steady in her hands—two sandwiches, one black coffee, one chai latte with a small heart of foam art she didn't mean to put there but somehow did anyway.
She set the drinks down first.
"One black coffee," she said, placing it in front of Sophia without looking at her directly.
Sophia murmured, "Thank you."
Jane moved briskly, placing the chai next. "Extra honey, no foam."
Clara's eyes lit up. "Oh my God. You're a magician."
Then came the plates.
Sophia's sandwich—rosemary bread, grilled vegetables, and a delicate layering of cheese that Jane had personally assembled.
She told herself it wasn't because it was for her. It was just part of the job. That's all.
As she set the plate down, Sophia looked up.
Their eyes met again—just briefly.
And just like the other night, it was enough to shift the rhythm of the room.
Jane was the first to look away. "Enjoy your meal."
Clara, busy sipping her chai latte, didn't notice a thing.
But Sophia did.
"Jane," Sophia said softly, before Jane could take a step back.
She paused.
Turned halfway. "Yes?"
Sophia hesitated.
Just for a second.
"…That latte art is nice."
Jane blinked. "I didn't mean to."
A pause.
Then Sophia's lips twitched. "Still nice."
Clara glanced between them, confused. "Wait, did I miss a joke?"
"No," Jane said quickly, almost too quickly.
Sophia just smiled faintly and picked up her coffee.
Jane gave the smallest nod, then turned and walked away.
But as she moved behind the counter again, she could still feel the weight of Sophia's gaze. Not demanding. Not dramatic.
Just there.
Steady.
And silently… watching.