Just coffee, maybe dinner, maybe nothing at all. Yet her thoughts refused to cooperate. As she walked, she kept circling the same truths: she wanted a partner, not casually, not someday—she wanted home. Marriage. Children. Noise and warmth and a table that was never quiet.

Saying yes to a blind date with a single father hadn’t felt like settling; it had felt frighteningly honest. A child meant history, responsibility, a life already shaped. But Lucia loved children. The idea scared her—and softened her all at once.

Her friend’s voice echoed in her head: He’s kind. Patient. Quiet. A good dad. White, yes, different from what her family usually imagined for her, but that had never mattered to Lucia. What mattered was whether he would want the same future she did, whether she was brave enough to step into something complicated instead of waiting for something perfect that never came.

She stopped in front of the café, smoothed her dress, inhaled once to steady her racing heart—and pushed the door open.