Sara pushed open the door to the HoneyComb Café, immediately greeted by the rich scent of vanilla and fresh coffee. It was definitely a fancy spot—polished floors, soft jazz playing in the background, and the café's name elegantly etched in gold on the glass front. It screamed expensive.
"Glad I got a better job," she muttered to herself. "One coffee here and my old paycheck would've vanished."
The place wasn't too crowded. A few quiet patrons sat with their laptops or books, sipping drinks. Her eyes scanned the café, searching for him. She only vaguely remembered Elijah's face from that chaotic night, but somehow she knew she'd recognize him if she saw him.
And she did.
There he was, sitting alone at a center table, speaking into his phone, his face serious and focused. For a second, she hesitated. He looked deep in thought, and she wondered if it was bad timing. But she had no choice—so she walked up, placed a hand on the seat across from him, and asked softly, "Mr. Elijah?"
He looked up, his brows lifting. The moment their eyes met, his expression softened.
"Miss Parker?" he asked, standing up and putting his phone away.
"Yeah," she nodded, smiling. "Nice to finally meet you."
"The pleasure's mine. Should I call you Sara instead?" he asked, shaking her hand gently.
"Sure," she said.
He didn't look away for a moment, his gaze lingering on her like he was both intrigued and slightly enchanted.
"If you need to finish your call, go ahead," Sara offered, noticing his phone screen still lit with the active line. "I'll place an order in the meantime."
Elijah glanced down at the screen and casually locked it. "It's not important," he said, brushing it off and calling for a waiter.
"What would you like, Sara?" he asked, pulling the menu closer from the side of the table. As he lifted it, a business magazine slipped out from underneath—clearly left behind by someone before them. Both of them glanced at it at the same time.
On the glossy front cover was the bold headline: "Augustine Core – The King of Business." His face stared out confidently, perfectly dressed and composed, with that signature serious expression.
Sara's eyebrows immediately furrowed. Her jaw tightened.
Elijah noticed her change in expression and gave a small smile. "You don't like him?"
He slid the magazine closer and flipped it open, revealing even more professional shots of the man.
"Not a fan," she replied, forcing a stiff smile.
"Can I ask why?" he said, honestly curious. Most women he knew couldn't stop staring at Augustine, and here was someone who looked like she wanted to throw the magazine out the window.
Sara sucked in a breath and rolled her eyes. "Let's just say... I had a bad experience. And by bad, I mean really bad." She leaned back and crossed her arms. "I'm not even kidding—I feel like if I accidentally cross his path again, he might actually try to kill me."
Elijah snorted and then burst out laughing. "Seriously? What on earth did you do to get on his bad side? I mean, I know him—and even I've never managed that."
Sara's eyes widened. "You know him?"
Elijah gave a light nod. "Very well," he said. "And to be honest, I don't particularly like him either."
She blinked in surprise, then smirked. "Well, look at that. We already have one thing in common."
He chuckled and flipped the magazine over, hiding Augustine's face. "We sure do."
There was a brief pause, more comfortable than awkward.
"So," Elijah leaned in slightly, arms crossed. "Let's talk about you. Enough about Augustine. Tell me something real."
Sara mirrored his posture, leaning forward, hands folded on the table. "What do you want to know?"
"Well, the usual—what do you do... where you're from..." he paused, squinting a little, like trying to focus on a blurry memory. "And, sorry if this sounds cliché—but have we met before? You look... really familiar."
Sara tilted her head, lips curving into a faint pout. "I don't think so? Not that I remember, anyway."
"I don't know," he said, studying her face. "The second I saw you, it felt like I knew you from somewhere."
He leaned in closer, his arms resting on the table, eyes narrowed slightly as if trying to study her features more clearly—like he was searching for a name, a memory. Sara shifted in her seat, a little flustered by the intense gaze of a man so effortlessly handsome, watching her as if she were something to figure out.
She scratched the side of her neck and gave a nervous little laugh."I don't want to sound like I'm bragging or anything, but… I am kind of a little famous." She leaned back just slightly.
"Ahm?" he prompted, a brow raised with curiosity.
"Yeah…" She glanced down at her phone, tapping out a quick search before turning the screen toward him. "Here."
Elijah took the phone, and as he looked down, his eyebrows slowly rose. Recognition lit up his face like a switch had been flipped.
"Oh—so that's why you looked familiar," Elijah said with a light, knowing smile. He kept his gaze on the screen for a moment longer, taking in the image like it was a puzzle finally solved. "I knew I'd seen you somewhere. Guess this was it."
The smile lingered on his face even as he handed her back the phone. There was something respectful in his expression, something just a little impressed.
"I never imagined such a skilled lady would be going on a date with me today," he added playfully. "This makes me want to make it my treat."
Just then, the waiter approached, menus tucked under his arm and a practiced smile ready.
"Oh, no—you don't have to do that," Sara said quickly, holding up a hand. "I still owe you for the car damage, remember? Let me pay. It'll make me feel a little less guilty."
Elijah paused, considering her insistence. Then he nodded, giving in with a soft chuckle."If you insist," he said. "But just for the record, I don't mind accidents that lead to good results."
His tone was warm, borderline flirtatious, and Sara felt her cheeks warm in response. He was far too handsome to be saying things like that so casually—especially when he meant them.
She ducked her head slightly, opening the menu to focus."It's my first time here," she said. "Any recommendations?"
He looked over, eyes thoughtful."The vanilla latte is really good. And they have these croissant sandwiches—they're simple but kind of perfect. Especially the turkey and cheese one."
She smiled. "Sounds good to me."
They placed their order and slipped into easier conversation. The atmosphere grew lighter, more familiar. The tension that had hovered at the start began to soften, replaced by a quiet sort of comfort.
At one point, Elijah glanced at her over his cup."Are you still swimming professionally?"
Sara paused, stirring the foam of her latte with the edge of her spoon.
"Not really," she said after a beat. "I work as a swimming instructor now. But it's more of a side thing. My interest in competitive swimming... faded. I think I just fell into it. It wasn't ever truly mine, you know?"
He watched her, genuinely listening.
"I still don't really know what I want to do. But I've been enjoying teaching beginners. There's something sweet about that—helping someone discover the water for the first time."
"I like that," Elijah said, nodding thoughtfully. "It's honest. A lot of people just keep pushing forward in things that don't mean anything to them. It takes courage to stop and say, 'Maybe this isn't for me.'"
He paused, eyes distant for a second.
"One of my closest friends was a professional swimmer. She loved it—" He paused, his brows furrowing, the pain in his voice as if he was feeling the pain himself. "She lived for it. But in the end, she had to give it up. She didn't have a choice."
Sara's expression softened, the edge in her voice melting into concern. "Why? What happened?"
He leaned back slowly, as if distancing himself from the weight of what came next. "Her family made her. They wanted her to marry, have children… follow the script." He exhaled hard, a bitter smile tugging at the edge of his mouth. "She became a sacrifice. A scapegoat for her family."