The café had turned rosy.
Red ribbons hung from the ceiling beams. A chalkboard menu at the counter now had little pink hearts doodled in the corners, advertising "Valentine's Specials" — strawberry shortcake lattes and cinnamon heart croissants. Catherine had drawn them herself before opening this morning, smiling at the idea of spreading a little sweetness.
Even if she wasn't sure how sweet her own Valentine's Day would be.
It was late afternoon when Maverick walked in.
Tall. Impeccably dressed in a navy blazer and tailored black slacks. Hair styled just right — the kind that looked effortless but definitely wasn't. Eyes sharp, jaw tense, and lips curved in that cool smirk that had once made Catherine fall hard and fast.
Heads turned as he stepped in. Catherine saw it from behind the counter—some girls nudging each other, whispering. Maverick always had that effect.
He walked past the register without looking at anyone, heading straight to the corner booth. The one she always reserved for customers who stayed long or tipped well.
He didn't sit. Just dropped his designer bag on the table and checked his watch, then pulled out his phone.
Catherine's heart fluttered. Not in the way it used to—but in that old, learned rhythm of anxiety and hope all tangled up together.
"Hey, you alright?" her coworker Aina asked quietly, handing off a tray.
"Yeah. He just dropped by," Catherine replied, not looking up.
Aina followed her gaze. "Of course he did. Looks like he's married to that phone more than anything else."
Catherine smiled, a soft, rehearsed thing. "He's just busy. Deadlines."
Aina didn't reply, but her raised brow said enough.
Catherine pushed the worry down and served another customer, laughing politely when a little boy complimented her latte art. She kept glancing at the corner table. Maverick didn't look up once.
Instead, he smiled at his phone screen—once, twice—before typing again, fingers flying. Then he stood abruptly and walked out the front door, phone pressed to his ear.
Catherine watched through the glass window as he paced outside, talking fast, a grin on his face. His hand ran through his hair in that flirty, animated way he only used with people he liked.
People he wasn't annoyed by.
People who weren't her.
She told herself not to read into it.
Maybe it was his boss. Or a client. Maybe something good happened. She wanted to believe that. It was almost Valentine's Day. She didn't want to taint the air with doubt.
When he came back inside, his face was neutral again. He slid into the booth and scrolled for a while before finally texting her:
"Done soon?"
She took off her apron and walked over between orders, wiping her hands on a napkin. "Just a few more minutes. Everything okay?"
He looked up, offered a half-smile. "Yeah. Just tired. Wanted to take you out today. Make it up to you for being busy."
"That's sweet," she said, meaning it, even if it didn't feel sweet.
She sat for just a moment on the edge of the bench. "Where were you thinking?"
"Somewhere decent. You'll like it," he said vaguely, already looking at his phone again. "I'll book it while you finish."
She nodded and stood, even as a strange pang twisted in her chest. She'd forgotten how easy it was for him to be present but not really there.
Back at the counter, Aina raised an eyebrow. "Valentine's miracle or Valentine's warning?"
Catherine chuckled softly. "Don't start."
"I won't. Just saying. He's hot, but damn girl, so is chili oil — doesn't mean you pour it all over your heart."
Catherine laughed — genuinely this time — and shook her head. "You've been watching TikTok wisdom again."
Aina winked. "That's where all the truth is."
She turned away, but not before giving Maverick one last look. He was smiling again. This time at something on his phone. Not her.
But Catherine pushed it away. She still had a job to do. A father to care for. And a boyfriend who, despite everything, still showed up—once a week, at least. That had to count for something.
Right?