She spilled her coffee, her almond croissant, and possibly her dignity-right onto Harry Styles. Emma's a French translator with zero chill, a tragic relationship with her inbox, and a talent for falling over her own feet. Harry's supposed to be focusing on his next album, not getting tangled up with the hilarious, chaotic girl who crashes into his life-literally. This is not a muse story. She's not his inspiration-she's just herself. But that might be the whole point. One almond croissant, one girl, one quietly ridiculous love story.

He's the man the world watches. She's the girl who was never supposed to be seen. What began as stolen moments turned into something real-too real to survive the spotlight. Between backstage whispers and sleepless nights, they built a love that could only exist in secret. But when the music stops, and the lights fade, love isn't always enough to keep you from walking away.

She wasn't looking for him. He wasn't supposed to stay. But Lotte, the sharp-eyed café owner with a soft heart and no need for English, knew better. In a quiet Berlin café filled with secondhand furniture, old vinyl records, and Lotte's unbeatable cherry cake, Emi lives a life of stillness-small, steady, safe. Then Harry Styles walks in, quiet and unshaven, trying to disappear. What starts with shared glances and mismatched mugs becomes routines, soup bowls, and late-night confessions. Emi pretends not to know who he is. Harry pretends he's not falling. And Lotte? She sees everything-and starts nudging them together with cake, eye-rolls, and more than a little mischief. But secrets don't stay quiet forever. When the world comes calling and Harry's love songs start sounding a little too familiar, Emi has to choose: stay hidden in her quiet corners-or finally risk being seen. A slow-burn, aching love story about intimacy, anonymity, and the grandmotherly matchmaker who always knew best. --- Warning : It's very slow and very long!

I didn't plan on falling in love with Harry Styles. I planned on surviving. Behind a bar, my life makes sense. Drinks in, drinks out. Keep moving. Don't get too close to anyone who might leave. Harry ruins that system the moment he walks in. He's patient in a way that's dangerous. Gentle in a way that makes it hard to keep my distance. He doesn't try to fix me, doesn't ask me to explain the parts of my life I'd rather keep buried. He just... stays. What starts as late-night conversations and quiet companionship slowly becomes something neither of us expected. Something steady. Something terrifying. Something that might actually be love. And when you've spent your entire life learning how to do everything alone, letting someone stay might be the hardest thing of all.