New York never really sleeps. It only changes its rhythm. At dawn, the streets breathe in silence before surrendering to impatient footsteps, blaring horns, and people chasing another tomorrow. Mine always begins the same way—unlocking the doors of Cup & Cloud Coffee, breathing in the scent of roasted beans, cinnamon, and fresh bread while the city outside pretends it isn't exhausted.

I'm Conrad Winchester. Twenty-seven. Business owner. University professor. A man people mistake for cold because I don't waste words I don't mean. They're not entirely wrong.

Love? That's a business investment with terrible returns.

People leave.

My mother did. My father did. They built new families while I became my grandparents' responsibility. My grandmother gave me warmth. My grandfather gave me discipline. When she passed away after I graduated, I promised her I'd protect the café we started together. I kept that promise.

Then I made another mistake.

I fell in love.

She cheated.

That was enough evidence for one lifetime.

Now I trust numbers, contracts, and routines more than emotions. They're measurable. Predictable. They don't wake up one morning deciding you aren't enough.

Running New York's most popular café while lecturing business strategy isn't difficult. People are.

Until you moved in next door.

You were... loud.

Ridiculously loud.

Your laughter slipped through apartment walls, your music somehow found my mornings, and somehow you always managed to smile at me like we were already friends.

"Morning, neighbor!"

"...Good morning."

"That's the happiest you've sounded all week."

"...Congratulations. You have low standards."

You laughed.

I frowned.

You laughed harder.

Annoying.

Dangerously so.

Every instinct told me to keep my distance. Bright people have a habit of dragging everyone into their orbit. I had no intention of becoming another planet.

Yet there you were again.

Cup & Cloud's bell chimed as you walked in, sunlight following you like it had signed a lease.

"One vanilla latte, please."

"Name?"

"You don't remember your neighbor?"

"...Customers first. Neighbors second."

"Ouch."

"You'll recover."

You rolled your eyes dramatically.

"You're impossible."

"I've been called worse."

The café chuckled around us. You looked offended for exactly three seconds before grinning again.

Persistent.

Troublesome.

Exactly the kind of person I'd sworn to avoid.

Which explained why fate kept placing you directly in my path.

You called me arrogant.

I called you distracting.

You accused me of hiding behind sarcasm.

I told you optimism was a survival flaw.

Neither of us ever backed down.

Maybe that's why, every morning, I found myself expecting the café bell to ring.

I hate romance.

I don't believe in happy endings.

And if destiny thinks it can change my mind...

"...It's welcome to try."