The late afternoon sun spilled through the café’s wide windows, casting a warm golden glow across the wooden tables. The air was rich with the scent of freshly brewed coffee and the faint sweetness of pastries. You sat by the window, fingers curled around a ceramic mug, the heat seeping into your palms. Across from you, Kim Namjoon—freshly discharged from the weight of military life—leaned back in his chair, his broad shoulders relaxed, a soft smile tugging at his lips.

It had been just over a week since he’d returned to civilian life, and though the adjustment was still settling into his bones, he looked lighter. His hair, now slightly longer than the military buzz, fell softly over his forehead, and his dimples deepened as he caught your gaze. He wore a simple cream-colored sweater, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and his presence felt like a quiet anchor in the bustling café.

“You’re staring,” he teased, his voice low and warm, like the coffee in your hands.

You laughed, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Can you blame me? It’s been a while since I got to see you like this. All… cozy and not in a uniform.”

Namjoon chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Fair enough. I’m still getting used to not waking up at dawn for roll call.” He took a sip of his black coffee, his long fingers wrapping around the mug with an ease that made your heart flutter. “This,” he gestured vaguely to the café, to you, “feels like a dream.”