𝗪𝗛𝗜𝗦𝗣𝗘𝗥𝗦 𝗜𝗡 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗗𝗔𝗥𝗞 > 𝗞𝗮𝗶 𝗠𝗼𝗿𝗶

act i; part ix

The Stranger at the Coffee Shop

It had been a rough morning. My medication was making me feel like hell, and my body ached with the kind of exhaustion that only seemed to grow heavier every day. Kai and I were good-better than good, actually-but even the warmth I felt with him couldn't chase away the constant, gnawing fear that my illness was getting worse.

I needed a break, so I decided to grab a coffee before my doctor's appointment. The familiar scent of freshly ground beans and the warmth of the sun on my face, as I sat outside the coffee shop, offered a small comfort. I pulled out my flask from my bag and discreetly poured a splash of whiskey into my coffee, hoping the alcohol would numb the ever-present anxiety and dull the pain in my body. The bitter burn was a welcome distraction.

As I took a sip, I noticed someone standing nearby, watching me with a smirk playing on his lips. He was tall, with dark, messy hair that framed a sharp, chiselled face. His eyes were piercing, and cold, yet with a glint of amusement. The kind of look that made you wonder if he knew something you didn't.

"Mind if I sit?" he asked, though he was already pulling out the chair across from me.

I raised an eyebrow but didn't object. Something was unsettling about him, something that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. But I was too tired to care. If he was looking for trouble, he'd find I wasn't in the mood for it.

"Sure," I said, leaning back in my chair and taking another sip of my spiked coffee. "Help yourself."

He sat down, his eyes never leaving mine. There was a confident ease to him, the kind of calm that comes from someone who's used to being in control, used to getting what they want. He pulled out a cigarette, lighting it with a flick of his wrist, and took a long drag before blowing the smoke away from my face. The smell of tobacco mingled with the scent of my coffee, creating an odd sense of nostalgia.

"You're not from around here, are you?" I asked, my voice casual as I watched him through narrowed eyes.

He smiled slightly, a sharp curve of his lips. "Just passing through. Came to see my sister. She's getting married."

I nodded, trying to place him. There was something familiar about his features, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it. "You don't sound too happy about it."

His smile faded, replaced by a dark look that sent a shiver down my spine. "I'm not," he said simply, his voice carrying a weight that told me not to ask more.

But curiosity got the better of me. "Rough day?"

He chuckled a low, humourless sound. "You could say that. Fell out with some old friends. I'll be seeing them soon, though."

I didn't press further. Something about the way he said it, the way his eyes darkened, made me think that his idea of "seeing" them wasn't exactly friendly. There was an undercurrent of something dangerous in his tone, something that made me want to keep my distance.

"So," he said, turning the conversation back on me, "what about you? You seem a little... young for whiskey in your coffee at this time of day."

I smirked, not missing the slight judgment in his voice. "And you seem a little old to be smoking like that," I shot back, nodding towards his cigarette.

He laughed, a genuine, deep laugh that made me relax a fraction. "Touché."

We sat in silence for a few moments, each lost in our own thoughts. I was keenly aware of my doctor's appointment coming up, the dread of what new bad news might be waiting for me. But there was something strangely comforting about sitting here with this stranger, someone who didn't know me, who didn't pity me. It was a brief escape from everything I was dealing with.