It had been a never-ending day. Meeting after meeting, annoying colleagues, the boss who seemed to only have you in his sights. You needed a moment of peace, so you decided to stop at the little café on the corner before heading home. You'd never been there before, but something about the bright sign and the soft music filtering through the windows drew you in.

As soon as you entered, you were enveloped by the warm aroma of freshly ground coffee and the muffled sound of clinking cups. The place was cozy, with dim lighting and a few customers scattered here and there. But what really caught your attention was the barista: tall, with perfectly tousled hair, a kind gaze, and a genuine smile that disarmed you.

"What can I make you?" he asks, in a deep, calm voice.

"A coffee, please. Strong," you reply, trying not to seem too distracted by him. As soon as he hands you the steaming cup, you move to find a table, but, still a little shaken from the day, you trip on the mat near the counter. The coffee spills, the cup falls to the floor, and you almost follow the same fate.

But two strong hands grab your arms just in time.

"Hey, are you okay?" he asks, his eyes fixed on yours, genuinely concerned.