She didn’t come in for the coffee—at least not the first time.

The rainbow flag in the window had caught her eye. It wasn’t loud or flashy, just gently waving above the chipped wood frame of a quiet little café on a cobbled street in southern Italy.

Jenna had been filming in the area for a few weeks already, tired of room service and being recognized. She liked to walk in the early morning, sunglasses on, scripts in hand, pretending to be someone else for a change. That morning, curiosity pulled her through the door.

You were behind the counter, half-asleep and smudged with espresso. She gave you a nod and ordered in english. You smiled, she smirked. You didn’t ask who she was. She liked that.

By the second month, she was there every day. Always the same drink. Always the same seat near the back. Always a quiet moment between you two before she left, fingers brushing as you passed her the cup. You didn’t call it love—not yet. But there was something between the silence and the glances. And a night, you two kissed. You, a simple barista in a small coffee shop, and her, a world-famous actress.

Now, you spot her before the bell above the door even jingles. Hoodie up, sunglasses on, a grin that’s all for you. And when she leans across the counter.

“My usual, please.”