As she wiped her brow, Alina realized her heart was still hammering. All that… for one black coffee? What would she do when there were five, ten, or twenty customers at once?
Her instinct whispered to run, to declare herself unfit for this job and quit before she embarrassed herself further. But then she caught Maya watching her, not mockingly, but with a quiet pride tucked behind the teasing. And for some reason, that tiny flicker of faith anchored her. Maybe she could survive this after all.
The bell jingled again. Alina's spine stiffened. Not again. Already?
A woman in her mid-twenties strutted into the cafe, sunglasses perched on her head like a crown. She had the confident stride of someone who knew exactly what she wanted and exactly how she wanted it.
"Hi," she said brightly, sliding her designer bag onto the table. "Can I get a triple-shot caramel macchiato with oat milk? Extra foam. Drizzle on top. And...umm make it iced."
Alina froze. Her brain stopped at triple-shot.
"…Sorry, what?" she asked weakly.
The woman smiled, patient but expectant. "Triple-shot caramel macchiato. Oat milk. Extra foam. Drizzle. Iced." She leaned back casually. "You got it?"
Alina's head spun.
Triple-shot?
Caramel?
Oat?
Foam AND drizzle?
And iced....on top of everything else? Pretty sure they just invented a new branch of mathematics with that order.
She darted back behind the counter, whispering to herself like she was prepping for an exam she hadn't studied for. She took the recipe book, which was present in one of the drawers, and turned the pages like fire... to find that one unique named cof.fee.
"Triple-shot means… three shots, right? But what's a shot? Like… espresso? And caramel… when is the caramel? Do we even have oat milk? Foam...okay, foam I can figure out… maybe if I just… shake it really hard?"
She opened random drawers, clinking bottles and jars. Sugar, napkins, straws...everything except what she needed. Her hands trembled as she held up two bottles. One was chocolate syrup. The other was caramel. Hopefully caramel.... Please be calm. Maya leaned an elbow on the counter, watching like she was at the cinema.
"Need help?" she asked, amusement dripping from every word.
Alina shot her a glare. "Don't you dare."
Maya raised her hands innocently. "Just saying… You are so confused in yourself."
Determined, Alina pulled a cup from the stack. She poured ice into it. Good start. She found the espresso handle and pressed the button...one shot came out, then another, then a third. Triple-shot! Victory!
Then came the milk. She grabbed the oat milk carton, opened it, and accidentally spilled half of it onto the counter.
"Ohno..... no, no, no...'' she groaned, wiping furiously with a napkin. The milk dripped off the counter and onto her shoes.
She groaned louder.
Maya bursts out laughing, clutching her stomach ''Whoa, Alina! Milky Toes Limited Edition. Only you could pull this off''
"Shut up," Alina snapped, pouring the remainder into the cup.
Next, caramel drizzle, she read out from the book. She squeezed the bottle with too much force, and instead of a delicate drizzle, a giant splat landed on top of the foam.
It looked less like a fancy iced macchiato and more like a crime scene. She thought of herself after seeing the chaos that she had made with her own hands, just because she was busy making some triple-shot coffee.
Holding her breath, she carried it to the woman's table. Thinking that, maybe tomen will throw that same coffee onto their face. Her hand wobbled so badly that the ice cubes clinked loudly against the sides.
"Here's your… uh… triple caramel… oat… thing," she said, setting it down gently.
The woman raised a perfectly plucked brow, eyeing the suspicious blob of caramel sinking into the drink. She lifted it, took a slow sip through the straw, and paused.
Alina's chest tightened. This was it. She'd be exposed.
"…It's fine," the woman said casually, pulling out her phone again. "Thanks."
Alina almost collapsed with relief. Fine.She said Fine. Fine is good. Fine is survival.
Back behind the counter, Alina buried her face in her hands. "I don't belong here. I'm a fraud."
Maya patted her shoulder, smirking. "Frauds don't make triple-shot caramel oat foam drizzle iced macchiatos on their second try."
"That wasn't a macchiato," Alina moaned. "That was an accident with ice."
"Doesn't matter," Maya said, handing her a clean towel. "The customer drank it, didn't they?"
Alina peeked through her fingers at the woman sipping happily in the corner. She was indeed drinking it, completely oblivious to the chaos behind the scenes.
Maya winked. "See? That's the secret. Half of being a barista is confidence. The other half is praying no one notices you. While you struggle with making the coffee, so that they have no idea what you're doing."
Alina groaned but couldn't help laughing, even as caramel stuck stubbornly to her fingers.
By evening, Alina collapsed onto a chair, groaning dramatically. "My feet are dead. Absolutely, completely dead."
Maya set two mugs of hot chocolate as a treat for herself on the table and slid one toward her. "You survived day one. Drink."
Alina sipped cautiously, then sighed. "Okay… this, I like. No bitterness. Just warmth."
Maya smiled softly. "Exactly. See? You'll learn. Eventually, this place will feel like home."
Alina stared into the chocolate, her reflection trembling on the surface. Home. The word felt strange, heavy, and yet… maybe Maya was right. Maybe I will feel at home. Here. Maybe this cafe could be her first step toward something she didn't even know she was searching for.
The office of Kai Arden was nothing short of intimidating. Floor-to-ceiling glass walls looked down over the city, curtains half-drawn against the blazing noon sun. A muted skyline shone with soft light. But inside, the atmosphere was cool, sharp, deliberately detached, much like its occupant.
Kai sat behind a wide, hard, dark reddish-brown wood desk, his profile cut clean against the light. As he was so much into writing something. There was a quick and silent knock on the door. It was his PA. He didn't look up when Ryan stepped. Heehe never did. Because he knows it's Ryan who knocked on the door in that manner. Like a kind of code word?? The quiet tick of an expensive clock filled the room before Ryan cleared his throat, clutching his leather-bound planner.
"Mr. Arden," Ryan began, his tone brisk but careful. "I have an update. The 6:00 p.m. appointment with Mr. Chaturvedi has been cancelled. He had... Ryan glanced down at his notes, "a personal emergency."
For the first time, Kai's pen stilled. Slowly, his dark eyes lifted, locking on Ryan with that unnerving stillness of his. "Cancelled?" The word was less a question and more an accusation.
Ryan shifted. "Yes. He...uh....asked to reschedule, perhaps next week...."
"Never," Kai cut in, voice low but sharp as glass. He leaned back in his chair, lips curving into something that wasn't quite a smile. "Never give him my appointment again."
Ryan blinked. "Sir, he's… important. He is a senior investor. If we...."
"If he doesn't care about my time," Kai interrupted smoothly, "then he doesn't value me. And if he doesn't value me, I don't waste my time valuing him."
The silence that followed was suffocating. Ryan swallowed, tugging at his tie. He'd seen Kai ruthless before, but something was chilling about the calm finality in his tone. No shouting, no anger, just a decision carved in stone.
Ryan scribbled the note in his planner, nodding quickly. "Understood. I'll informhim."
Kai's gaze had already drifted back to the documents on his desk. To him, the matter was closed.
Ryan forced himself to continue. "Your lunch at 12:30 has been moved to the Four Seasons instead of Café Del Mar. The board director's assistant made the change. Security has been doubled since paparazzi were spotted outside the hotel this morning."
He didn't reply, just gave him a slight nod.
"The product strategy session at two....since Mr. Chaturvedi won't be attending, would you like me to cancel it altogether or...."
"No." Kai's voice was a whip crack. "Keep it. Replace him with Mr. Bose. He's been trying to get on my calendar for weeks."
Ryan blinked. He scribbled again. ''Bose! Right.'' He'd make the call as soon as he left.
"Dinner event at six has confirmed twenty-four guests instead of the expected eighteen. I've arranged for the seating chart to be modified. PR briefing is still at four, but the head of press asked if you'd consider"
"Tell them no."
Ryan hesitated. "No to what exactly?"
Kai finally raised his eyes, and the weight of his gaze hit like a physical thing. "No to whatever they're asking. They always ask for more. My answer is no."
Ryan bit back a sigh. Typical, He gave a curt nod. "Understood."
For a moment, the room was filled only with the faint sound of pages turning as Kai shifted through the papers on his desk. His hands were long, elegant, precise with every movement.
Ryan sometimes wondered if the man was even human. Most bosses yelled, some ranted, some threw tantrums. Kai did none of that. He didn't need to. His silence was heavier than a thousand words, his clipped replies enough to end entire arguments.
Ryan was about to close his planner when his gaze caught on something unusual: a thick sheaf of bound papers resting at the edge of Kai's desk. It wasn't glossy like scripts usually were. It looked raw. A manuscript.
Ryan hesitated. He rarely commented on Kai's desk. It was almost sacred territory, a place where even dust wouldn't dare to settle. But curiosity prickled. Slowly, cautiously, he asked, "Sir…" He gestured faintly. "That manuscript. Did you finalize a script? Is this… something new you're considering?" or It's the same one that you were....?
For a long moment, Kai didn't respond. His hand lingered over the paper, almost protective. Then, without looking at Ryan, he said flatly, "You don't need to know everything."
Ryan froze. The reply was cold, dismissive, but there was something else beneath it. Not quite anger. More like… defense. Kai's gaze lifted, sharp as steel. ''I'll let you know if the time comes''
Ryan nodded quickly, though inside, questions swirled. His boss never entertained unknown scripts, never touched anything that wasn't polished, vouched for, and industry-approved. Then why was this here? Why did he sound almost different? Is something going on in his mind?
As Ryan backed away toward the door, the silence pressed in again. He stole one last glance at the manuscript. No title was visible from his angle, just neat lines of type. But he could have sworn that Kai's eyes lingered on it with something uncharacteristic.
Ryan closed the door quietly behind him, unsettled. And Kai?
He leaned back in his chair, tapping the manuscript with his fingertips once, almost absently, before pulling it closer. For the rest of the afternoon, not a single word of Ryan's schedule updates remained in his mind.