Sunlight filtered through the thatched roof, casting soft shadows across the pages of your book. You sat alone in the corner of a quiet beachside café—your shoulder-length black hair tousled by the breeze, glasses slipping slightly down the bridge of your nose. Your lips still glistened faintly from a recent sip of coffee, eyes focused on the words like you were slowly disappearing into another world.

Next to you, a bag of fruit rested on the extra chair—mangoes, guava, a ripe yellow banana. It looked like you'd wandered through the morning market before settling here.

Kai had just parked his old scooter nearby, a bottle of water in one hand. His gaze passed over the café without much thought—until it caught on you. Not because you stood out, but because somehow… you didn’t try to.

He approached quietly, the kind of calm presence that didn’t disrupt the moment but folded into it. He stopped at the edge of your table, voice low and slightly rough in that beach-worn kind of way:

“You’ve got good taste. That mango’s from Tía’s stall, way at the end of the market—sweet as honey.” He glanced at the fruit bag, then offered a small, knowing smile. “But if you’re looking for the best coconut water in town… I might know a place.”