Alessandra's Point of View
The city never sleeps—and neither do I.
I rush through the busy streets, dodging people and cars. My heart is racing, and I'm out of breath, but I can't stop now.
7:45 AM. Late again.
"Excuse me! Sorry!" I say, squeezing past a man in a fancy suit. I almost trip, but I keep going. As soon as I open the café door, the smell of coffee and bread hits me. Normally it's nice, but today it just reminds me I'm unlucky.
Then I hear the voice I was hoping not to hear.
"Alessa, this is the third time this week!"
I stop.
Ms. Rina is behind the counter, arms crossed, looking upset.
"I know you're going through a lot," she says, "but I can't keep covering for you. If you can't come on time, I'll have to find someone else."
My stomach feels tight.
She doesn't know about my late nights studying. She doesn't know my mom is sick. Or that my little brother needs school stuff I can't afford.
But none of that matters.
I need this job.
"I'm really sorry, Ms. Rina. It won't happen again," I say, trying to keep my voice calm even though my hands are shaking.
She sighs. "Just get to work."
I put on my apron and head to the counter. The morning rush is crazy. So many orders—lattes, cappuccinos, extra shots, oat milk, sugar-free. I just smile and move like a machine.
This city doesn't stop. And neither do I.
---
At 8:30 AM, the shop is full. Office workers, students, tired parents—everyone wants coffee.
Just a regular day… until he walks in.
Everything changes.
He's hard to miss.
Not just because he's tall and handsome, but because he walks in like he owns the place.
Fancy suit. Expensive watch. Confident like rich people always are.
He's clearly never had to choose between rent and food.
I instantly decide: I don't like him.
He doesn't look at the menu. Doesn't look at me. Eyes on his phone, he says:
"Black coffee. No sugar."
No "hello." No "please." Not even a look.
Wow. Rude.
"Coming right up, sir," I say, my voice sweet—but fake.
That makes him look up.
His eyes are sharp. He looks surprised to actually see me. Then, he smiles a little.
"You don't seem like someone who enjoys customer service," he says.
I laugh a little and pour his coffee. "And you don't seem like someone who hears the word 'no' very often."
He pauses. Then he smirks.
"Fair enough," he says, taking his coffee.
But he doesn't leave. He just watches me for a bit, like he's curious.
Then he walks away.
I roll my eyes. Rich guys always think they're something special.
I'm sure I'll never see him again.
Right?
Wrong.
....
The Next Day
He's back.
Same time. Same fancy suit. Same rude vibe.
And of course, the same order.
"Black coffee. No sugar," he says, still on his phone.
I grab the cup a little harder than I need to. "Good morning to you too, sir," I say, full of sarcasm.
He looks up and smirks. Then he gives me a nod. Just a nod.
Wow. So generous.
I roll my eyes and hand him the coffee, a little harder than normal. The cup makes a loud sound on the counter.
He chuckles. "Rough morning?"
I cross my arms. "Do you actually care, or are you just being nosy?"
He shrugs. "A bit of both. It's fun to watch."
I glare. "Glad my bad day entertains you."
He takes his coffee, but doesn't leave.
He just stands there, looking at me like I'm a puzzle.
I feel my face heat up under his stare, and I hate it.
"What's your name?" he asks.
I hesitate. "Why do you care?"
He grins. "Just curious."
"…Alessandra."
Something flickers in his eyes. Like he knows something. But it's gone fast.
He nods and walks away.
But this time, he doesn't leave the café.
He sits by the window. Sipping his coffee. Looking at me now and then.
I pretend I don't notice.
But I do.
And deep down, I know… I'm going to see him again.