Chapter 14 — COFFEE AND QUIET APOLOGIES
The morning after the bridge meeting was softer than most.
Elaris City woke slowly, with sunlight spreading across glass towers and soft mist curling along the riverbanks.
In the Duke Flower Shop, the smell of fresh roses and warm bread mixed in the air, creating a calm that felt almost new.
Cathy had risen early. She swept the floor, trimmed the stems, and filled vases without needing to think. Her hands moved from habit, but her thoughts drifted elsewhere.
The night before still played in her mind, like a quiet film she didn’t want to end.
She had not expected to see Adrian again, and yet when she did, her heart hadn’t known whether to ache or to rest.
He had looked tired, older somehow, but his eyes had still been gentle. That was what undid her the most.
Her mother was humming at the counter when the doorbell chimed.
Cathy turned, expecting Luna or a customer.
But when she saw him standing there, holding a small paper bag and two coffees, her heart stumbled.
Adrian smiled carefully, as if afraid to disturb the air between them.
“Good morning,” he said quietly.
Cathy blinked, unsure if she was ready for this. She reached for her notepad out of instinct.
You came early.
He nodded. “I didn’t sleep much. I thought maybe coffee might help us both.”
Her mother, ever warm and perceptive, smiled brightly. “Oh, you’re the architect from before, aren’t you? Cathy told me about you.”
Adrian hesitated, then smiled back politely. “Yes, ma’am. I was just passing by and thought I’d bring her favorite blend.”
Mrs. Wynn beamed, wiping her hands on her apron. “Well, that’s very kind. Cathy, dear, why don’t you take a short break outside? I’ll handle things here.”
Cathy wanted to protest, but her mother had already turned away, pretending to busy herself with the lilies.
Adrian gestured toward the small garden table outside the shop. “May I?”
She gave a small nod.
They sat together under the awning, the sunlight falling through the vines in soft patterns. The air smelled of fresh rain and jasmine.
Adrian handed her a cup with her name written neatly on it. “Still two sugars, no milk.”
Cathy took it slowly, her fingers brushing his for the briefest second. It felt like the touch of an old song she still remembered.
He opened the paper bag and took out two croissants. “I didn’t know what else to bring, but Luna once mentioned you like these.”
At her friend’s name, Cathy smiled faintly. She tore a piece of the pastry and wrote on her pad.
You didn’t have to come.
“I know,” he said. “But I wanted to.”
The silence that followed wasn’t heavy. It was patient. The kind that fills spaces where words are too small.
After a while, she wrote again.
You look tired.
Adrian laughed quietly. “That’s honest. I guess I am. I’ve been trying to fix too many things at once.”
She tilted her head, watching him closely. There was sincerity in his eyes that she hadn’t noticed before — no masks, no defenses.
“I’m sorry for what I did,” he said finally. “For the name, for the secrets, for thinking I could protect you by pretending.”
Her pen hovered over the page for a few seconds before she wrote.
I know you didn’t mean to hurt me.
He looked down. “But I did.”
Cathy hesitated, then wrote again.
You can’t change what happened. But maybe we can start small again.
Adrian lifted his gaze, and the relief in his expression was almost heartbreaking. “I would like that. Even if it means starting from hello again.”
She smiled softly. Hello then.
He chuckled. “Hello, Cathy.”
They sat in that small garden for a long time, drinking coffee and listening to the city waking up around them. A delivery truck passed. Someone laughed across the street. The fountain nearby caught the sunlight and scattered it into little sparks that danced on the leaves.
When Cathy finished her coffee, she opened her sketchbook. She began to draw, quick and fluid, her pencil gliding across the page.
Adrian leaned closer, watching in silence.
When she was done, she turned it toward him.
It was a sketch of the two coffee cups side by side, steam curling between them like the shape of a heart.
He smiled. “That’s beautiful.”
She wrote under the drawing, Maybe peace doesn’t need big promises. Maybe it starts with small mornings like this.
Adrian looked at her for a long time, his eyes warm. “Then I’ll keep showing up for the small mornings, if you’ll let me.”
Cathy didn’t answer right away. She tore the sketch from her book and slid it across the table toward him.
When he reached to take it, she added one final note at the bottom.
No lies this time.
He nodded slowly. “No lies.”
The words settled between them like sunlight. Simple, steady, and full of quiet hope.
Later that afternoon, when Adrian left, Cathy stood by the door and watched him cross the street. The wind lifted his coat slightly, and for a moment, he turned back and waved.
She waved too. It felt easy. Easier than she expected.
Her mother appeared behind her. “He’s handsome,” she teased gently. “And polite. I like that one.”
Cathy smiled, pretending not to blush. He’s trying to be better.
Mrs. Wynn nodded knowingly. “Then let him try. Sometimes the heart needs proof, not promises.”
Cathy looked back toward the empty street and thought, maybe this time, proof had begun with a cup of coffee and a quiet apology.
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