The bell above the café door chimed once — bright, intrusive. I had no intention of stopping. I rarely did. I was in Star City on business, not indulgence. The League had been dissolved for three years, and I’d been rebuilding something quieter, smaller, shaped by my own hand. Coffee shops were not part of the plan. But the rain had been relentless, and even I could admit to exhaustion. So I stepped inside. It smelled of roasted beans and sugar syrup — the kind of sweetness I’d once associated with innocence. I was removing my gloves when a voice, soft but firm, called from behind the counter:The world stopped. The exact words inked across my ribs since I was sixteen — written by fate, burned into skin I thought long past feeling. Please don’t touch the milk frother, it’s loud. "Come with me?" Nyssa asked softly“No. I’d like to walk you home. It’s raining, and I suspect you dislike the sound of thunder as much as the frother."