Renna Rose Lancaster is the girl people stare at like she belongs in a glass case, a life airbrushed into unattainable perfection.
But Renna knows her life is nothing but a golden prison coated in pretty lies that keep her muted and small.
Her day...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
There's something cruel about waiting. It's like the sky knows your nerves are jangling and decides to lean its elbow on the clock, stretching seconds into minutes, minutes into whole eternities. The world carries on, buses sighing past, strangers chattering into their phones, a boy balancing coffee trays while his mates shoved him for fun, but for me... it was just this single moment, dragging itself out. A moment that only existed for him.
Aadam.
I had been standing outside Little Finch coffeehouse since half past three.
And he had said four.
Which meant I had willingly gifted myself half an hour of agony, pretending to browse the shopfronts across the street. Half an hour of staring at the same WhatsApp notification, rereading his text like it was some sacred scripture I might have misinterpreted. Half an hour of replaying those two little words in my head.
Just us.
God, how was anyone meant to function after that?
I had repeated it like a prayer under my covers last night, eyes wide in the dark, smiling at the ceiling like a madwoman until my cheeks hurt. Sleep had been useless, unnecessary even. Who needed it when I already felt drunk on daydreams? Of course I turned up early. Who wouldn't? Love does not keep you on schedule. You arrive first, eager, just in case it shows up early too.
So here I was outside Little Finch, the café with fairy lights blinking faintly across the windows like sleepy stars, and the smell of coffee beans curling into the air, tangled with sugar and cinnamon. The kind of place that whispered secrets and made you want to lean close, made you want to fall in love.
And of course, my shadows were with me. All three of them.
Neil was propped against the car parked nearby, sharp navy coat neat as ever, arms folded like some stone guardian. His eyes flicked across the street constantly, cataloguing everyone who so much as glanced my way. Tobias, or Toby as I liked to tease him, stood a few paces off with his hands clasped behind his back, a proper soldier in his long coat. Magnus, the quiet giant, leaned against the lamppost, his bulk making the metal look fragile.
Neil's voice cut through the bustle. "Pourquoi, Mademoiselle Renna, must we stand here in the froid, when inside there is warmth, light, café chaud? It makes no sense."
(Why, Miss Renna, must we stand here in the cold, when inside there is warmth, light, hot coffee? It makes no sense.)
I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, fighting a smile. "Because he said four o'clock. If he's early, I want to already be here."
Neil drew his sleeve back, checking the time with unnecessary sharpness. "Trois heures trente. Trop tôt. It is impolite, non?"
(Three thirty. Too early. Too early. It is rude, no?)
