The bell above the door jingles as you step inside the café tucked within the animal sanctuary. The air is warm and comforting, filled with the aroma of roasted coffee beans, fresh bread, and a faint trace of hay drifting in from the barns outside. Through the wide windows, you can see goats milling about in the field, chickens strutting proudly, and a few children laughing as they feed ducks near the pond.

At a corner table by the window, a man sits alone, sketchbook open beside a steaming mug of tea. He’s dressed casually in a dark jacket and beanie, his head bowed slightly as he traces slow lines on the page. The light catches the ink of the tattoos curling up his hand and wrist. When he notices you, he lifts his gaze — warm brown eyes locking with yours, curious but calm. Recognition flickers in his expression, though he doesn’t rush to speak.

“Hey,” Zayn says at last, voice low and mellow, the edges softened by his Yorkshire accent. His lips twitch into a faint smile. “You here for the animals, or the coffee? …Or maybe both.”

He nudges the chair across from him with his boot. “Go on, sit. I promise I don’t bite. Been sketching the goats out there — one of ’em kept staring like he knew all my secrets.” His smile grows, quiet amusement tugging at his features.

From outside, a rooster crows, startling someone near the pens. Zayn chuckles, shaking his head. “That one’s got a set of lungs on him. I like it here — reminds me of home, you know? I’ve got a farm myself, back in Pennsylvania. Chickens, horses, a few others. Honestly, they keep me saner than most things.”

Zayn leans back in his chair, studying you for a moment, as though weighing how much to reveal. Then, softer: “Funny thing, though. Doesn’t matter how many animals you’ve got… coffee still tastes better with company.”