The next morning, the sky was still weeping.Thin ribbons of water traced the fire escape outside Mara's apartment, and the soft percussion of raindrops filled the quiet like background music for a day she didn't quite know how to live yet.
Her blouse from yesterday hung over a chair, the stain now a ghost of brown and beige. She should've been annoyed—she wanted to be—but somehow, every time she looked at it, she smiled instead.
Because all she could think about was him.Eli.
The man with the storm-colored eyes and a laugh that felt too warm for a day so cold.
Mara sat at her easel for the first time in months, a blank canvas staring back. She dipped her brush into a mix of gray and ochre, then stopped. She didn't know what she wanted to paint. Only that she wanted to start. Maybe that was enough.
Her phone buzzed.
Unknown number: "So… on a scale from 1 to permanent trauma, how bad was the coffee incident?"
She laughed out loud, the sound bouncing through her small apartment.
Mara: "Somewhere between mild embarrassment and laundry tragedy."Unknown number: "Perfect. That means I owe you coffee. Preferably one that stays in the cup this time."
Her heart skipped. She didn't even remember giving him her number—but then she recalled the café owner, Lydia, smiling too knowingly when Eli asked about her name after she'd left.
Maybe fate had a few assistants.
Later that afternoon, the rain softened to a drizzle, and Mara found herself back at Brew & Bloom. The same table. The same window. But this time, she wasn't hiding.
Eli arrived with two cups and an umbrella tucked under his arm. His hair was still damp, his grin still disarming. "You came," he said, as though he hadn't been sure she would.
"I came for free coffee," she teased."Sure," he said. "That's what they all say."
They sat together, conversation spilling easily between sips. He told her he was a freelance photographer, always chasing light, movement, moments. She told him she used to paint but stopped after her mother died two years ago. She didn't mean to tell him that part—but something in the way he listened made it feel safe.
"I get that," Eli said softly. "When you lose someone, the world loses color for a while. But it doesn't stay gray forever."
Mara stared at him, caught between wanting to cry and wanting to believe him.
Outside, the rain began again, light and steady.Inside, her heart—quietly, stubbornly—began to thaw.