The café buzzed faintly in the background, coffee machines hissing, soft jazz playing from overhead speakers, a barista calling out a name now and then, but at their corner table, time moved differently. It pulsed gently, like a warm tide brushing against the shore of something real.
Hriva leaned back in her chair, her empty cup cupped between her palms. Across from her, Zara had stolen a slice of Mira's carrot cake and was eating it with absolutely no remorse. Niyah had tucked her feet up beneath her, one elbow on the table, watching them all with lazy affection.
It felt good.
Like something familiar and rare at the same time.
"I still can't believe you hid him from us for this long," Mira said, licking a bit of frosting off her finger. "You always disappear when something big happens."
"I don't do it on purpose," Hriva replied, a little defensively. "It's just... sometimes I need to feel something fully before I can say it out loud."
Zara nodded slowly. "That's fair. But still. This Jake guy must be a serious game-changer."
Hriva's fingers twitched slightly around her cup. She didn't look up right away.
"He is," she said softly. "Not because he's perfect. But because I don't feel like I have to be."
That landed with a quiet thud. Mira stopped mid-bite. Niyah blinked.
Zara was the first to speak. "Damn. That was... really beautiful."
Hriva shrugged, but her cheeks were pink.
"Okay, that's it," Niyah said, sitting up straighter. "We're doing a full love-life roundtable now. Since our girl over here just dropped a bomb and left us gasping."
Mira smirked. "Oh, I'm ready. Someone pass the metaphorical microphone."
Zara grinned. "You would go first."
Mira tucked her hair behind one ear and leaned in, lowering her voice slightly. "So... remember that photographer I mentioned a few months ago?"
Niyah groaned. "The one with the voice like velvet and the arms that could break a wine bottle?"
"That's the one," Mira said proudly. "Well, turns out he's even better without the camera. We hooked up last week. On his rooftop. Under string lights. With actual jazz playing from his speaker. I'm not exaggerating."
Zara's eyes widened. "That sounds illegal."
Hriva laughed, covering her mouth. "You're kidding."
"I swear. There was wine. There was dancing. I think he might actually like me. Which is terrifying, by the way."
Niyah leaned forward. "Are you going to see him again?"
Mira shrugged, suddenly shy. "Maybe. I want to. But... I don't know. I have this stupid habit of running when it gets too real."
Zara reached out and squeezed her wrist gently. "Maybe this time you don't."
Mira gave a half-smile, then turned the spotlight. "Okay, Niyah. Your turn. Don't pretend like you haven't been texting someone constantly under the table."
Niyah rolled her eyes but didn't deny it.
"Fine. There's this guy. Eli. He's... different. Not my usual type. He's quiet. Teaches high school art. Drives a beat-up truck and brings me flowers from the corner market."
"Aww," Hriva said softly.
"I know, right?" Niyah looked genuinely conflicted. "He's sweet. But I keep waiting for the twist. Like... when's the chaos coming? Where's the red flag?"
"Maybe there isn't one," Zara said. "Maybe the twist is that he's not a disaster."
"I'd be more suspicious," Mira teased. "Those art teacher types are wild behind closed doors."
Niyah burst into laughter. "I'll let you know if that's true."
Zara waved a spoon like a conductor. "Alright. I guess that leaves me."
They all turned to her expectantly.
Zara leaned back with a sigh. "Honestly? I've been kind of floating lately. No crush. No hookups. No secret poetry boys or rooftop jazz adventures. Just... me."
"That's okay," Hriva said gently.
"It is," Zara agreed. "But sometimes I miss being missed, you know? Like... that flutter you get when someone texts you out of nowhere. Or when someone knows how you take your tea without asking."
The girls nodded quietly.
"I miss that too," Mira said, surprising even herself.
For a moment, no one spoke.
Then Hriva broke the silence. "Jake knows. About the tea. And how I sleep with the window open, even in winter. And that I hate phone calls, but love voice notes. And when I get anxious, I trace circles on my thumb without realizing it."
They all looked at her again.
Zara's voice was softer now. "How long did it take him to learn all that?"
Hriva met her eyes. "He didn't learn it. He noticed it."
And just like that, the weight shifted again.
Less laughter now. More warmth. More understanding. The kind of quiet that doesn't come from running out of things to say, but from being surrounded by people who finally see you.
Mira reached over and squeezed her hand. "You're lucky."
"I know," Hriva whispered.
Outside, the light had changed. Afternoon was melting slowly into early evening, casting long shadows across the floor. The café had emptied a little. The baristas moved slower now, chatting between tasks. The clink of cups had softened.
"I want to meet him," Zara said after a long pause. "Not just to grill him. But because... I think he might be one of the good ones. And you deserve one of the good ones."
"I want that too," Mira added. "Dinner? Soon?"
Niyah smiled. "Let's plan it. Just tell him to bring flowers. I have a thing for guys who do that."
Hriva laughed, overwhelmed but happy.
"Okay," she said. "I'll talk to him."
And just like that, a new thread had been sewn. A bridge between her world with Jake and the women who knew her before he ever did.
She looked around the table one more time, and her heart felt full.
Not just with love.
But with something deeper.
Belonging.