Sylvia POV
Bang. Bang.
The sound crashed against my door, jerking me awake so fast my whole body snapped to attention. My heart punched my ribs. Then that voice - too familiar, too close.
"Sylvia, come out and pay me my money!" Bexon's shout cut through the half-dark.
I shot upright, chest tight, barely able to breathe before he started again, somehow louder and more pissed off.
"Sylvia, I know you're in there. Come out and pay me my money!"
No one else in this world called my name like that. Only him.
My skin went cold all over as reality sank in. I didn't have his money. Not now, not at all. My fingers twisted up in the bedsheet - my brain just spinning, searching for some way out that wasn't there.
Another bang shook the door.
I dragged myself up, legs shaky, every step toward the door heavier than the one before. My hand hovered just above the handle. Then I pulled it open.
Bexon stood on the threshold, looking at me like I was something stuck to his shoe.
"Still in bed, little bitch?" he spat.
I jerked back, head down. Couldn't look at him.
"Instead of trying to pay back that money your useless father owes me, you're hiding out here sleeping," he snapped, voice cutting and sharp.
Just hearing him say my dad's name - something twisted inside me. Shame with some rage tangled up in it. I forced myself to swallow.
"Bexon, please," I said, my voice barely more than a squeak. "I just need a little more time. I swear I'll pay you soon. The café hasn't paid us yet."
"How long am I supposed to wait?" he threw back, stepping in close. "Aghh!"
His fingers brushed my cheek and I jerked away, whole body tensed, every muscle screaming to just run.
He laughed, soft and mean, leaning so close I could smell his breath.
"I gave you an easier way out," he murmured. "You picked the hard one."
My stomach knotted and twisted.
He paused. "I'll give you a little more time," he went on, breath hot in my ear. "But if I come back and you're still empty-handed..."
He let the threat hang, just long enough for its full weight.
"We do it the hard way."
Then he backed off and walked away.
I stood planted there, shaking, not moving until his footsteps faded. Only then did I let out the air I'd been holding, lungs shuddering.
Closed the door, leaned into it until the wood chilled my back.
"Great," I muttered under my breath. "Just the perfect way to wake up."
I dragged myself back to my room to get ready for work, barely awake, every part of me dragging like someone had already hit fast forward on my battery. Mornings sometimes feel like that - done before you even start.
For a second, I almost felt grateful that Bexon had managed to wake me up just in time. A small favor, considering the effort it took to get past him. Life has a way of evening the score, not always nicely.
I faced my little wardrobe and started rifling through the usual pile - worn tops, old dresses stretched out and faded, stuff I'd stopped loving years ago. Grabbed something from the stack just as my ancient phone rattled across the bed with its usual halfhearted ring.
I checked the screen. Picked up.
"Hi, Via." Eloise. My best friend.
"What's up?" I mumbled, barely awake, struggling into a top.
She laughed. "You sound like you woke up on the wrong side of the bed."
I couldn't help a dry exhale. "Try waking up to the wrong person instead."
There was a pause. "Bexon again?"
"Who else?" I shot back, all sarcasm. "My oh-so-thoughtful caregiver."
Eloise burst out laughing, her voice easy and light through the speaker.
"Wow, okay, you're laughing at my crisis. Love that for me." I tried for a half-hearted grin.
"No, no," she managed, still giggling. "I can't help it, Via. But hey - you'll get out of it. Promise."
"I wish," I sighed, not even meaning to say it out loud.
"So, what are you doing?" she asked, changing the subject.
"Running late for the café," I said, already tossing a few things into my bag, doing that familiar frantic search for my keys before stepping into the cramped sitting room.
"Okaay," she sang. "I just got back from the bar, and you will not believe what happened!"
"Spill," I said, half-listening as I moved towards the kitchen.
I grabbed a dry slice of bread from the counter - nothing fancy, just enough - and chewed as I listened to her spill all the workplace drama from last night, her voice buzzing in my ear.
I locked up behind me and headed out for the bus, still trying to beat the clock. Twenty minutes left to make it on time. We promised to talk properly later - actually hang out this time - before I ended the call, shifting focus to whatever the day was about to throw at me.
It already felt long. And it was just starting.
***********
I practically shuffled across the café floor, barely making it in on time for my shift. After the mess of my morning, everything felt a bit heavier than usual, but I headed for the lockers, pulled on my apron, and started grabbing orders. The smell of coffee and baked pastries washed over me, which made things a little better. I picked up a couple of orders and got moving.
And - there he was. Same table. Same seat. That black suit of his looked absurdly expensive, spotless as ever. His hair: slicked back, not one piece out of line. He had the kind of face that turned heads - sharp jaw, strong features, and those hands around his usual black coffee. Don't ask what was going through my mind. It wasn't exactly pure.
He looked up, those dark brown eyes locking onto mine for a second, and it actually felt like he could pin someone in place that way. He caught me staring and just smirked. My whole chest went weird, and I kind of forgot what I was doing until I forced myself to turn away and help someone else. Pretty embarrassing, honestly - but come on, could anyone blame me? He could pass for a model - there was almost something unreal about how hot he looked. I definitely felt my face turning red.
Even after I tried to focus on the next customer, I could still feel him watching me. That never happened before. Usually, he'd keep to himself, drink his coffee in silence, and go - never bothered with anyone around him.