❝Goddammit! I hate you! I hate you and your dumb voice! and your stupid muscles and your awfully attractive face!❞
❝You think I'm attractive?❞
❝Fuck no!❞
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
Dangerous, wild and rebellious.
Calm, cool and collected.
Darya just wan...
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Four years later
I hear a whisper behind me. "Mommy, she has stars around her legs." The child's voice is hushed but clear enough for me to catch. "It's so beautiful."
A smile pulls at my lips as I turn around to find the little girl's eyes wide with wonder, fixed on me. Her mother pulls her closer, a fleeting look of apology crossing her face.
I lift a hand, waving it gently to signal it's okay, to reassure her there's no need for concern. The child's gaze lingers on me before she buries her face in her mother's shoulder.
I whisper back to the girl, "It's because I'm strong." A soft giggle escapes her lips. I add, my voice barely above a murmur, "Some say I'm even an angel."
Her doe-like eyes widen, darting down to the scars on my skin before snapping back up to meet mine. A gentle smile spreads across her mother's face. She mouths words to me, the shape of her lips forming, "You're the strongest."
I smile back at the mother, then turn to face the counter. The cashier's hands move efficiently without even waiting for me to talk, assembling my order – a strawberry shortcake sits on a plate beside a matcha and a black coffee.
I lift a brow, a flicker of surprise crossing my face at how she already knows exactly what I want. A glance at the familiar surroundings of the café settles the thought; I've come here often enough that it's no surprise she's got my order memorized.
Oh God, don't cry Darya.
The walls of this coffee shop feels like a second home. I've settled into the rhythm of the espresso machines, the hum of chatter, and the scent of brewed coffee. In the quiet hours between classes, or while waiting for Ethan to finish his, I've made this place mine – a spot where I can breathe easy, where the bustle outside fades away.
A pang hits me thinking about leaving. The thought of not walking through these doors anymore, not sinking into the worn armchair by the window, lingers like a shadow.
The cashier's question breaks into my thoughts. "You're alone today?" she asks, her hands moving efficiently as she takes my card and packages my order.
I lean a hip against the counter, taking my card back from her. "Yeah," I reply, my voice a little distant. "He's figuring out the luggage situation for the airport. I'm just grabbing us some food to go."
Her voice soft and familiar, she starts. "I'm going to miss seeing you both around." The cashier's words hang in the air, a gentle sigh punctuating her sentiment.
I bite my lip, the sting of tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. My fingers fidgets, picking at the edge of the countertop as I struggle to compose myself. Why am I getting emotional over something so simple? Just a summer break, after all.
