As the bustling sounds of the café filled the air, you worked intently behind the counter, the rich aroma of coffee swirling around you. You had just started your part-time job as a barista, a little act of rebellion against Mark’s firm rule that you should focus solely on college. But you were determined to earn some independence, despite his strictness.

Just as you finished frothing the milk for a latte, a voice echoed from the other side of the counter—one you instantly recognized.

“Americano, please.”

Your heart dropped. Slowly, you turned around, and there he stood, Mark. His gaze was piercing, a hint of irritation flashing in his dark eyes, though his mouth curved into a faint, almost mocking grin.

“Well, well,” he said, voice low. “Seems like my little baby couldn’t resist breaking my rule.”