It was too warm for late spring. The kind of heat that clung to skin and made iced coffee sweat faster than you could drink it.
Outside the café, under a navy umbrella that fluttered in the lazy wind, four girls lounged with half-melted drinks and heavy bags under their eyes. Exams were over. Futures were still unwritten. And no one could stop talking about both.
"I'm applying to Uni," said Serena, brushing her glossy hair over one shoulder. "Communications. I want to work in media or PR—something global, you know?"
Jessica Tang, sitting opposite her in a plaid skirt and too-bright lipstick, leaned in with a practiced smile. "You'd be amazing at that, Serena. Honestly. I can already see you at some rooftop party with champagne and a nameplate necklace."
Laughter circled the table like a breeze. Ava smiled faintly, eyes half-lidded, her drink untouched.
"And you, Jess?" Serena asked, tilting her head.
"Business," Jessica said, too quickly. "My dad wants me to take over his company eventually. I mean, I'm not, like, obsessed with money or anything—"
"You totally are," giggled the fourth girl, Lila, who hadn't said much but always knew when to deliver a punchline.
Jessica stuck out her tongue, mock-wounded, then turned her gaze on Ava.
"What about you, Ava? You never talk about college. Are you applying anywhere?"
Ava's gaze drifted from the condensation sliding down her plastic cup to the street beyond the patio rail. A truck passed. A woman walked her dog. Ordinary things. This world was so... intact.
"I haven't decided," Ava said quietly.
Jessica blinked. "Seriously? Finals are over. You still haven't—?"
"I'm waiting," Ava said. Then, after a beat, she added, "I don't want to pick something I'll regret."
Serena gave her a sympathetic look. Jessica just narrowed her eyes slightly, as if trying to read between lines that weren't hers to read.
"You could do architecture," Jessica offered. "Or, like, tech design or something. You're always sketching weird things."
Ava gave a polite nod, but didn't answer.
"Well," Lila said, finishing her drink, "whatever we all do, we should meet back here five years from now. Like, for real. Same table."
"If this place still exists," Jessica said.
"It will," Ava murmured, more to herself than anyone. "It's the only place in this district that doesn't collapse."
Jessica gave her a strange look, but the moment passed with another burst of laughter.
Then came the sound.
Low. Clean. Unmistakable.
An engine.
Not the rattling hum of a compact car or the growl of a truck.
This was smoother. Sleeker. Controlled. The hum of something fast and expensive.
Ava didn't turn her head. Not yet.
But her spine straightened. Her heart—so still for the last year—gave one sharp, traitorous jolt in her chest.
She didn't need to see it. She knew that sound.
The engine drew closer.
Lila turned first, shading her eyes. "Holy crap. Is that a Ducati?"
Jessica practically twisted in her seat. "It is. That's the V4—the new one. That thing costs more than our entire tuition combined."
Ava didn't look.
Not yet.
She gripped the edge of her cup, nails biting into plastic. The straw bobbed slightly with the tension in her hand. A shadow slid across the table as the bike pulled into the curb. The sound dropped into silence.
Her friends were still whispering. But Ava couldn't hear them.
She turned her head.
And there he was.
Helmet off.
Short dark brown hair tousled by the wind. Jaw sharp enough to split concrete. Black jacket unzipped just enough to show the white collar of a pressed shirt beneath it—like he'd dressed for a meeting, then decided the rules didn't apply.
He stood next to the Ducati like he didn't notice it. Like the 40-thousand-dollar machine wasn't worth a second thought. His eyes scanned the café.
Not lazily. Strategically.
Golden eyes.
They didn't shine. They cut.
Jessica was already flipping her hair, uncrossing and re-crossing her legs like a model posing in a commercial. "That's Lucas Bai," she whispered. "CEO Bai's son. My cousin saw him at a private gala last month—he's already taking board meetings."
Serena leaned in. "Isn't he, like, twenty-four? Isn't he engaged to someone—"
"Angel Lin," Jessica cut in. "Socialite. Gorgeous. Her dad's in the government or something. It's all arranged, super classy. Basically modern royalty."
Lila snorted. "Royalty in a coffee shop?"
Jessica shrugged. "Maybe rich people get tired of sipping gold leaf espresso."
Ava didn't laugh.
She didn't blink.
She watched Lucas cross the sidewalk in clean, confident steps. His left hand in his pocket, the other unzipping his jacket as he approached the café door. A silver watch gleamed under his sleeve. His boots didn't make a sound. He didn't look at anyone.
He didn't have to.
He walked past Ava's table without turning his head.
He disappeared into the café.
Jessica gave Ava a smirk. "Don't even bother, Zhang. Guys like that don't go for girls like us."
Ava blinked, as if just realizing she'd been caught staring.
"I know," she said softly."But I wanted to see him one more time."
Jessica raised an eyebrow. "You know him?"
"No," Ava replied, her voice distant. "Not yet."
Ava didn't take her eyes off the glass door.
Through the reflection, she could see him at the counter, speaking to the barista. Calm. Direct. She couldn't hear his voice from here, not with the clatter of dishes and Serena's voice drifting beside her, but she remembered the way it sounded.
Low. Clipped. Measured like a threat that didn't need volume.
He didn't wait for his drink. Someone handed it to him immediately.
An iced Americano, she noticed. No sugar. No milk.
Lucas Bai wasn't the type to soften anything, not even caffeine.
Ava was staring.
Too long.
Too directly.
She forced herself to look down, fingers curling around the sleeve of her cup, but the chill inside was long gone. Sweat slid down the plastic and pooled at her fingertips.
Jessica leaned over, voice syrupy with curiosity. "You sure you don't know him, Ava? You're staring like you've seen him naked."
Ava gave her a blank, cool, unreadable look. The kind that said, I've seen worse than that.
Jessica rolled her eyes. "Whatever. It's not like you'd have a shot even if you tried. His fiancée's a literal goddess. And rich. And not creepy."
Ava didn't respond.
Inside the café, Lucas turned. Coffee in hand.
He stepped through the glass door, one hand shoving it open casually, eyes scanning the crowd outside and for a second, they landed on her.
Not a glance. Not an accidental sweep.
A direct look.
His brows didn't lift. His expression didn't change. But something stilled in the air between them; like the pressure just dropped.
Ava didn't flinch. Not yet.
Then she realized: she was the only one looking at him without any awe.
She was staring at him like she already knew what he would say next. Like she remembered what it felt like to sit beside him in a room of enemies and count seconds before the trap closed.
Like she remembered him.
His head tilted just slightly.
Not curiosity.
Calculation.
She dropped her eyes.
Too fast.
Her hand trembled once before she forced it still again.
Lucas walked away.
Helmet in hand. Black gloves tugged on with casual efficiency. He straddled the Ducati, gave the café one last indifferent look; and then the engine roared back to life.
This time, Ava didn't watch him leave.
She already knew he would.