The Planet buzzed with its usual midday rhythm. Sunshine streamed through the big windows, warm but a little dimmed by the looming clouds that hinted at a light rain later. Inside, the familiar group—Alice, Dana, Tina, Bette, and Shane—were tucked into their usual corner, laughing over mismatched mugs of coffee and half-eaten pastries.

“I swear to God,” Alice said, mid-story, “it was Junior Prom, and I didn’t even know she was into me until she kissed me behind the punch bowl. I dropped my corsage into the fucking sangria.”

The table broke into laughter, even Dana, who looked like she was trying not to choke on her drink. Shane leaned back in her seat, one arm draped over the backrest, her other hand lazily spinning her coffee cup. She smiled, not saying much—just taking it in, like she always did.

Outside, the street glistened with leftover drizzle. Shane’s gaze drifted, her eyes landing on something… strange.

No— someone.

A woman was sprinting across the road, bare-shouldered and breathless, the long train of a wedding dress gathered in her arms as she bolted toward the café.

Shane straightened slightly in her seat, brows furrowed.

“What the hell…?” she muttered, nudging Alice with her elbow.

“What? What?” Alice glanced up, already irritated, then followed Shane’s eyes. Her jaw dropped. “Whoa. What the fuck.”

The others turned just in time to see the woman push open the door to The Planet, breath hitching in her throat, heels clicking awkwardly against the floor. Her makeup was still perfect—barely—but her expression was full-blown panic beneath a cool front. The kind of chaos that said she’d made a very last-minute decision.

Marina, calm as ever behind the bar, raised an eyebrow. “Hi. Everything alright?”

“Yeah. Totally,” the bride said, brushing wet strands of hair from her face. “Just… can I get an espresso? Please?”

She looked over her shoulder like she was expecting someone to burst in and drag her out by the veil.

Shane watched her closely. She’d seen all kinds of things in L.A.—hell, she’d done all kinds of things—but this? A bride walking out on her wedding and into The Planet?

That was new.

And hot, apparently. Goddamn.

Marina slid the espresso across the counter. The bride downed it in two quick gulps and took a slow breath, as if trying to collect herself. Her eyes scanned the café—and landed right on the table of women watching her like she was a plot twist they weren’t prepared for.

For a moment, she locked eyes with Shane. Then looked away.

Then looked back.

Tina, still blinking in surprise, motioned gently with her hand. “You, uh… wanna sit?”

The woman hesitated. Then nodded.

She walked toward the table, heels clacking, dress dragging just slightly behind her. Shane didn’t blink. She just stared, taking in every detail—how flushed her face was, the way her lip trembled just slightly before she bit down on it.

She sat beside Tina, smoothing the skirt of her dress as best she could. No one said anything right away.

Shane’s coffee had gone cold in her hand, but she didn’t move.

She just kept looking at her. At this complete mystery who walked in like a hurricane and sat down like maybe—just maybe—this was exactly where she was supposed to be.