They said Arin Langford had everything- The fame, the power, the name. But not her. Not the girl from that summer she couldn't forget. Not the one who was close, but never hers to keep. Years later, Arin has become a star. She wears the perfect smile. She's controlled. She's fine. Until her new bodyguard arrives. Tailored suit. Familiar eyes. Tawan. Arin's childhood friend. Her almost. Her always. Now pretending to be a stranger. Hiding behind a mask. Tawan was supposed to protect her. Not undo her all over again. They thought they could forget. But some feelings never learned how to die. One of them stayed in love. The other never left. WARNING: Some chapters contain mature languages and scenes. How wild is your imagination? Do you dare enter the Sanctuary? (Not all chapters are innocent. Some... aren't even pretending to be.) *DISCLAIMER: I wrote this story before I found out that there was a LingOrm GL series with a similar story and Ling's character was named "Tawan". Tbh, I was thinking of FB when I wrote this story and just recently watched Only You series' trailer - YZ

This is not a fanfic. It's an original sapphic slow-burn featuring a barista with issues and a customer with good taste in women, ahem coffee. Any resemblance to real-life sapphic icons is purely coincidental and definitely not my fault. I was just writing. They walked in. If you see Becky and Freen... that's between you, your imagination or your Wi-Fi 😁 _______________ ☕ DeadSpresso They said it was just coffee. One order. One name. One girl with eyes like unfinished stories. But then she kept coming back. Same time. Same seat. Same drink. Dara wasn't looking for love. She was looking for the will to survive another shift without setting the espresso machine-or herself-on fire. Her secret? Well-hidden. Her feelings? Not so much. Rin didn't flirt. She just existed-quiet, unreadable, and infuriatingly composed. The kind of girl who could ruin your routine just by looking at you too long. One of them is already spiraling. The other hasn't even noticed she started the storm. There's no confession. Just coffee orders with too much eye contact, shared silences that say too much, and garlic-way too much garlic. This isn't a love story. It's emotional warfare with a caffeine budget. And if you've ever fallen for someone across a counter and hated yourself for it... Welcome to DeadSpresso.