The bell above the café door chimed, and you looked up with a smile you couldn’t quite hide. You already knew who it was—the same man who came in almost every day, always ordering the same black coffee. Surrounded by loud students and hurried customers, he stood out easily.

He looked much older than you, more refined, carrying himself with a kind of effortless maturity that made the busy café feel calmer the moment he walked in.That afternoon, you almost spilled the drink in your rush to serve him, the cup rattling lightly against the counter. Your cheeks warmed as you stammered

“S-sorry!” But the man only chuckled softly, accepting it with steady hands. “Don’t worry,” he said, his voice deep yet gentle. “Just make it the way you like it next time.”