The Red-Haired descendant

Chapter 3

Asher

I approached the counter to take the woman’s order, mustering a friendly smile. “Hey there,” I greeted her, but she swiftly interrupted. “Get me a coffee that you think is this house’s special,” she said, turning away and settling into a nearby table.

After a moment of contemplation, I recalled a cherished recipe from my childhood—an Ethiopian coffee my mother used to brew. The rich aroma and bold flavors felt like a warm embrace, a tangible reminder of family and love. I carefully prepared the drink and poured it into a simple, rustic cup that was perfect for the occasion.

As I headed toward her table, I observed that she didn’t acknowledge me. A wave of uncertainty washed over me. Did she not remember me? Perhaps my earlier words had slipped into her thoughts, lost amidst the chaos of the café.

I hesitated for a moment but decided to focus on Bianca instead, who was seated at the counter, studying me with keen interest. She watched me like a hawk, waiting for me to unravel the mystery she sensed unfolding. I brought the coffee to her and asked, “What?”

Bianca’s eyes shifted from me to the woman at the table. “What? That’s your question? You were practically drooling over her!” she exclaimed, her tone a mix of teasing and incredulity. “Oh my God, there’s something I don’t know, right? You’re keeping secrets!”

“Seriously?” I replied, raising an eyebrow. Even though I was feeling heartbroken, it didn’t mean I had to keep everything about my life on lockdown. “You’re acting like a gossip columnist.”

“You bitch!” Bianca playfully scolded, laughter mixing with the residual frustration from her earlier heartbreak. “Just because I’m heartbroken doesn’t mean you can hide things from me! Come on, spill the tea! Who is she, and what the hell?”

Rolling my eyes, I leaned closer, lowering my voice as if sharing a confidential secret. “I don’t know much about her, Bianca. I just met her by the beach a couple of months ago. She’s... enigmatic, I guess?”

“Enigmatic,” Bianca repeated, mockingly. “That’s just a fancy word for ‘totally unavailable.’ So, do you know her name?”

I opened my mouth to respond, but no words came out. I just stared at her, realization dawning on me. I didn’t know her name. “No,” I finally admitted.

Bianca's laughter filled the air, a light sound that should have been comforting but only heightened my frustration. “Shut it,” I shot back, striving to maintain some modicum of dignity.

Just then, I turned back to where the woman had been sitting—and was taken aback to find her gone. My heart sank as I caught a glimpse of her retreating figure, sunlight gleaming off the cup she had left behind, alongside the cash she had placed on the table.

“Great,” I murmured, a pang of loss that I couldn’t quite comprehend gripping me.

Bianca noticed my distraction. “Anyway,” she said, her tone turning serious, “I’m heartbroken, and I need my best friend tonight. We’re going to drink and go crazy, no opposition! I’ll leave Isabella with my mother.”

I looked at her, half-amused and half-concerned. “Are you sure about that? What do you have in mind?”

“Trust me,” she replied, mischief dancing in her eyes. “Just a fun night out! Exactly what we both need.”

I hesitated, torn between supporting Bianca and the lingering thoughts of the mysterious woman who had just slipped away. But I could see my friend needed this escape. “Alright,” I finally agreed, offering a small, reluctant smile. “Let’s do it. Just one night, right?”