The night after the café incident refused to leave Serena in peace.
She lay awake, staring at the faint patterns the streetlights painted across her ceiling. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Ethan's face twisted with guilt, his voice cracking when he tried to explain away what she had heard and seen. A mistake. Just a mistake. The words kept echoing, but they weren't enough to stitch back the pieces of her heart.
By morning, her eyes were swollen, her body heavy with exhaustion. Yet when she stepped into the kitchen, her mother was already there, humming softly as she brewed tea. The scent of chamomile drifted through the air, calming yet sharp with memory.
"You didn't sleep," her mom said gently, not turning around.
Serena forced a shrug. "Neither did you."
Her mother glanced back, her eyes full of quiet understanding. "You don't have to pretend with me. Heartbreak is a storm, but it will pass."
Serena sat down, running her hands through her messy hair. "It doesn't feel like it will."
Before her mother could answer, Chloe burst into the room holding a loaf of bread like a trophy. "Breakfast delivery, people! And yes, I expect applause."
Behind her, Jade waddled in slowly, one hand on her growing belly, the other carrying a box of pastries. "You're supposed to be helping me carry things, not hogging the bread."
Chloe winked. "You're pregnant, not broken. Besides, you've got the baby glow to do all the heavy lifting."
Jade rolled her eyes but smiled as she lowered the box onto the table. "This baby better be a girl. I don't think the world can handle another boy raised by Chloe's bad influence."
"Excuse me," Chloe gasped, dramatically clutching her chest. "This baby is going to be fabulous no matter what. And if it's a boy, I'll teach him how to charm every girl in kindergarten."
The room erupted in laughter, and for the first time in days, Serena felt the knot in her chest loosen just a little. Her friends were chaos and comfort rolled into one, and she needed both.
Still, as they teased Jade about baby names and argued over whether croissants counted as breakfast or dessert, Serena's mind wandered back to the man in the café.
Dante.
The way he'd appeared, calm and commanding, sliding into the tension between her and Ethan like he belonged there. The way his gaze had lingered on her, not pitying, not prying—just watching. It unsettled her more than Ethan's betrayal because Dante wasn't supposed to matter. He was supposed to be a stranger, yet his presence clung to her like a shadow she couldn't shake.
Later that afternoon, when she left the apartment for a walk—anything to clear her head—she found him again.
Leaning casually against a lamppost, as though he had all the time in the world, Dante looked up when she approached. His dark suit was simple but perfectly cut, his expression unreadable except for that glint in his eyes that always made her feel both exposed and seen.
"You look pale," he said, pushing off the post. "Coffee?"
Serena blinked. "You… followed me?"
He smirked, though his tone was light. "Or maybe fate is on my side."
Her pulse stuttered. She should walk away—she knew she should. But instead, she found herself hesitating, caught between curiosity and caution.
And that was when she realized it:
Dante wasn't just a stranger in her story anymore. He was becoming part of it.