[Scene: Small Café – Evening Rush]
The café was buzzing — clinking cups, low chatter, the hiss of steaming milk. Outside, rain pattered against the windows, blurring neon signs into watercolor streaks.
Alvira slipped inside, shaking droplets from her scarf. She had planned only a short stop for tea before catching her bus.
But then, near the corner table, she saw him.
Ilham sat alone, hood pushed back, a book open in front of him, untouched coffee cooling at his side. His presence felt strangely at home in this ordinary place.
For a second, her heart stumbled. Why here, again?
Ilham's POV
Of all places…
I thought I could vanish into this café, just another man hiding from the rain.
But when she walked in — the entire room blurred, and only she came into focus.
Their eyes met. A silent recognition.
He gestured to the empty chair across from him.
"Would you… like to sit?" His voice was careful, almost hesitant.
Alvira hesitated — then nodded.
[Scene: The Unexpected Comfort]
The rain outside grew heavier, drumming against glass, as if urging them to stay longer.
They sat across each other, the table small enough that when Isa handed her a napkin for her damp hands, his fingers brushed hers lightly. A simple gesture — yet it lingered like an echo.
"You come here often?" she asked, keeping her tone steady.
He shook his head. "First time. Just needed somewhere quiet."
He paused, then added softly, "I didn't expect quiet to look like this."
Her cheeks warmed. She lowered her gaze, stirring her tea though she hadn't added sugar.
[Scene: The Conversation That Matters]
Between sips and silences, their talk wandered — not about fame, not about music, not about the noise of the world.
Instead, it was about small things. Books. Memories of favorite childhood foods. How rain in different countries sounded the same, yet different.
Alvira found herself laughing once — real laughter, unguarded. She quickly stifled it, embarrassed.
Ilham leaned slightly forward, voice low. "You don't have to hide it. Your laughter… it's worth hearing."
Her heart clenched. This was dangerous, this warmth. Yet it felt so achingly safe.
[Scene: The Parting]
The rain eased into a drizzle. Alvira stood reluctantly, pulling her scarf tighter.
"I should go before it gets too late," she said.
Ilham rose as well, stepping closer to hold the café door open for her. The cold air rushed in, and for a moment, the world was just the two of them under the quiet streetlight.
"Take care, Alvira," he said, her name rolling off his tongue like a memory he wanted to keep.
She offered a small smile. "You too, Ilham."
As she walked toward the bus stop, she felt his gaze following her — steady, unwavering, until distance swallowed the moment.
[Closing Monologues]
Alvira:
How many times can a heart break and still beat? This closeness is a test, and yet, Ya Allah, how do I walk away when every step feels pulled back toward him?
Ilham:
The lights, the stages, the career I once bled for — they all feel… shallow.
But sharing tea with her in silence? That felt like a life worth living.
To be continued.....