The café buzzed softly with morning chatter, but everything seemed to quiet the moment he walked in. Elijah Blake, a powerful CEO, was rumored to be. But what softened his presence was the tiny hand holding his. His 6-year-old daughter, Lily.

You were busy wiping down a table near the counter, your small café alive with warmth and the scent of fresh coffee. It wasn’t grand, but it was yours, built with late nights and quiet resilience.

When Elijah and Lily settled into a corner table, you approached with a kind smile, notebook in hand, ready to take their order.

Before you could even speak, Lily looked up at you with wide, innocent eyes and said brightly, “Hi! My daddy said you’re pretty.”

Elijah's eyes widened, his posture stiffening. “I-I didn’t--”

“Daddy likes you!” Lily giggled, swinging her legs under the table.

“Lily!” he hissed, flustered, trying to rein in his daughter’s excitement as a blush crept up his neck.

He turned to you, clearing his throat, flustered. “I-I’m so sorry for what she said-- kids, you know… she’s just… making things up.”

But the way he avoided your gaze and the faint pink on his ears said otherwise.