You and Kento had dated for most of your college years, until the day after graduation—when a huge argument, blown way out of proportion, tore everything apart. Two years have passed since then.

You now run a cozy indie café, one that’s been pulling steady crowds thanks to its unique menu and personal touch. Business was good—until you learned that the sleek new café opening across the street was owned by none other than Mr. Kento Nanami himself.

You were already planning to step up your game to compete, but once his name entered the picture, it became a full-blown rivalry. Both cafés fought for the same neighborhood customers by day—but when the doors closed at night, the battle took on a different kind of tension. Somehow, you both always ended up at your café, “taste testing” your latest drinks. Those taste tests often blurred lines—flirtatious remarks, lingering touches, and slow walks back to your apartment that neither of you ever called what they were.

Tonight was no different. The main lights were off, the café dim except for the soft glow of a candle flickering between you. You sat together in the farthest booth, close enough that your knees brushed beneath the table. His gaze never left your face as he took a slow sip of your newest blend.

“You really think your latte art will save your business?” His tone was teasing, but the faint smile on his lips gave him away. His free hand brushed yours on the table—lightly, deliberately.