The next evening, Adaora found herself standing outside Midnight Brew. Again. She stared at the glowing sign above the entrance. Then frowned, "This is ridiculous." There were dozens of cafés in Abuja. Yet somehow she had driven across town to return to this one. The bell chimed as she entered. The familiar warmth greeted her. And so did he. The barista looked up immediately, his expression brightened. "Hello there, you came back". Adora hated how pleased that made her feel. "I needed coffee." "Of course." His smile suggested he didn't believe her. She approached the counter. Before she could speak, he reached for a cup. "Cappuccino." She blinked. "You remember?" "I remember all my customers." Something told her that wasn't entirely true. Still, she said nothing. A few minutes later she settled into the same corner table as the night before. Laptop open. Work waiting. Yet concentration proved difficult. Because every so often she caught him glancing in her direction. Not in an intrusive way. More like curiosity. As if he were trying to solve a puzzle. Hours passed. The café gradually emptied. Soon only a handful of customers remained. Then Ethan approached her table. She noticed the name stitched onto his apron for the first time. Ethan. "So," he said. "So?" "You come to a coffee shop every evening." "Apparently." "You spend hours staring at your laptop." "It's called working." "And you never order anything except cappuccino." Adora leaned back. "Have you been studying me?" "I own the café." "You own it?" "I do." "I thought you were just a barista." His eyes flickered with amusement. "Can I not be both?" Fair point. For some reason, she found herself smiling. A genuine smile. One she rarely gave strangers. Ethan noticed. His expression softened. "There it is." "What?" "The smile." Adaora instantly became self-conscious. Her fingers paused above her keyboard. "What about it?" Ethan's expression remained relaxed. "I was beginning to think you didn't have one." The smile vanished from her face immediately. The change was so quick that Ethan almost wondered if he had imagined it. Adaora looked back at her laptop. "I've made a terrible mistake coming here." The words hit him unexpectedly. His smile faded. "Did I say something that made you think that way?" She sighed softly. Not because she was annoyed with him. Because she was annoyed with herself. Being noticed had always made her uncomfortable. Especially when someone noticed things she wasn't ready to share. "Not really," she said quietly. "Can I go back to my work now, please?" For a brief moment, Ethan felt the shift between them. The invisible walls. The barriers she had spent years perfecting. And suddenly he realized he had made her uncomfortable. It hadn't been his intention. He simply enjoyed seeing her smile. But now he understood that for someone like Adaora, attention wasn't always welcome. "Of course," he said gently. He stepped back, "No more interruptions." Adaora nodded without looking up. Ethan returned to the counter. The café remained quiet, but something had changed. A few minutes ago, the atmosphere between them had felt easy. Now it felt fragile. As though one wrong word could shatter it completely. Eventually Ethan glanced toward the window. Rain was beginning to fall again. A slow, gentle drizzle against the glass. He hesitated. Then decided to make one last attempt. Looking toward her table, he said quietly, "You know, I think the rain likes you." Adaora barely looked up. "Why?" "It only shows up when you do." She simply shook her head. This time she didn't smile. Didn't laugh. Didn't even spare him a glance. Ethan took that as his cue to let her be. He turned away and focused on work. But he couldn't shake the feeling that something had changed. Something small. Something important. Still, despite everything, he found himself hoping she would return tomorrow. Because for the first time in years, he was curious about someone. And curiosity was dangerous. Especially when it came wrapped in quiet eyes, big glasses and carefully built walls. Hours later, Adaora finally closed her laptop. The café was nearly empty. As she packed her things, she glanced toward the counter. Ethan was busy cleaning the espresso machine. He didn't look in her direction. Didn't try to stop her. Didn't attempt another conversation. The distance between them felt deliberate. And for reasons she couldn't explain, it bothered her. Maybe she had been too harsh. Maybe he had only been trying to be friendly. The thought followed her all the way to the door. The bell chimed softly as she stepped outside. Rain kissed her skin. And for the first time that evening, Adaora found herself wondering whether she owed a certain barista an apology.