Page 220 of Fractured Devotion
I chose the table by the window, the same one I’ve sat at countless times before.
Then, I order a coffee, gentle and unassuming, and the barista barely spares me a glance. They know me here, but only on the surface. Names are rarely exchanged in places like this. Just familiarity.
The coffee arrives quickly, and I curl my fingers around the cup, savoring its warmth.
Outside, the world moves on without a care, people passing in pairs, some carrying shopping bags, others pushing strollers. No one looks up toward me.
I let myself watch them, letting their ordinary lives lull me into a sense of calm.
For now, there’s nowhere else I need to be.
I sip the coffee, its bitterness grounding.
Time stretches thin.
And I wait, calm and steady, as the minutes blur together, letting the weight of everything finally slip from my shoulders, if only for a little while.
The wind stirs outside, catching the bakery’s door every time someone leaves and sending a soft draft curling through the room. I sit unmoving, wrapped in the muted warmth of coffee and the soft hum of life around me.
I trace the rim of the cup with slow, absent circles. My phone rests beside it, face down.
Outside, the street flows with its usual rhythm, people passing by, cars pulling in and out.
And then I see it.
Alec’s car pulls to the curb in front of my apartment.
My heart stutters, sharp and quick.
He climbs out fast, his face tight with urgency, his movements sharp and focused.
I watch him from the bakery window, frozen.
He glances at the street briefly before rushing toward the building’s entrance.
I don’t move.
My breath catches, my hands tightening around my cup.
Some part of me wants to stand, to run after him.
But another part stays rooted, unsure if I should allow myself the pull of that kind of hope.
I watch as he disappears inside.
Seconds stretch.
Then, my phone lights up, and the screen glows with his name.
I stare at it, my pulse thrumming beneath my skin.
I don’t answer.
Not yet.
Instead, I close my eyes, letting the weight of the moment settle, soft and heavy.
Outside, the city moves on, oblivious.
