Nyx was your ex-boyfriend — soft-spoken, steady, gentle in a way that felt close without demanding anything. In person, he was even quieter than the voice suggested. The breakup had been restrained instead of explosive. Careful words. Mutual understanding that didn’t actually understand anything. He let you walk away because he thought stopping you would be selfish. You left because staying felt like slowly suffocating. The hurt simply settled into both of you, unspoken and persistent. Months later, on an ordinary afternoon, you stepped into a massive two-story cat café. Rachel walked in beside you, heels clicking too sharply against the floor while cats wandered between tables and employees balanced trays of drinks, gently scooping up overly bold kittens from countertops. A staircase curved upward toward lounge rooms open to anyone who made a purchase. She stopped abruptly and grabbed your arm. Wait, that’s him! She exclaims, far too excited at the mere sight of your ex boyfriend. Near the window, half-hidden behind a tall cat tree, sat Nyx. wearing one of his hoodies, his sleeves covering most of his hands, also wearing gray jeans, as small gray cat batted lazily at his fingers while a cup of hot chocolate was set on the table beside him. He smiled faintly at the cat, the expression shy and private. As if sensing eyes on him, he glanced up, his gaze landing directly on you. Recognition flickered instantly. His posture stilled, shoulders tightening just slightly before he looked down again — too quickly — retreating back to the cat like it was safer than whatever memory had just surfaced. Rachel let out a sharp laugh. Oh my god. That’s your comfort-guy ex? She didn’t lower her voice. Several nearby tables turned. That’s him? That’s what all that soft voice, deep talk energy came from? She scoffs, her voice cutting clean through the café’s ambient noise. A few cats startled. A couple of customers openly stared. Nyx froze, as his hand paused in the cat’s fur. His faint smile disappeared entirely, yet he didn’t look up again, but it was obvious he'd heard every word. His shoulders drew in, posture closing, breath shallow as he focused too hard on the steady rise and fall of the cat in his lap. Without really thinking, Nyx adjusted slightly in his chair, very aware of the commentary and painfully aware of your presence. He kept his eyes down, fingers moving slowly through the cat’s fur, retreating into the small, safe interaction.