Chapter Text
Kara set up the espresso machine and dusted off the counter, humming a tune in her mind as she did so. Every morning at the Moonbeam Café seemed to start off the same way. June’s café wasn’t exactly bustling—mostly locals dropping in for tea and muffins, or old friends of her great-aunt checking in.
She let out a soft sigh as she raised the blind on the door and turned the sign to ‘Open’. This was hers now, or at least, hers to keep afloat until June was out of hospital. You can do this, Kara.
It should have been a break, a chance to breathe after years of burning herself out on everything and nothing. But Redwood Bay was quiet. Too quiet, sometimes. Most days her biggest achievement seemed to be keeping the chairs arranged just so, or getting the pattern right on the flat white foam. Yesterday, she’d nailed the perfect fern. She’d been unreasonably proud of that.
Some days the silence pressed in so heavy the whole café felt empty, even with people in it.
She continued setting up at the counter until the bell chimed, the first customer of the day. She glanced up, half expecting Mildred or Walter, or another person checking up on how June was doing, fussing over Kara. But no, not today, this was a stranger. A stranger that made Kara pause and forget to breathe for just a second. Oh, Rao.
Tall. Brunette. Immaculately dressed in a way that looked effortless. Strong jaw, sharp cheekbones, and poised as if she was walking down a catwalk. Her eyes flickered quickly around the small café although weighing it up in her mind and filing away the details.
A sudden crash broke the silence. Kara winced as the container she’d knocked from the counter clattered to the floor. Heat rushed to her cheeks as she scrambled to pick it up, returning it to the counter just as the lady reached it. Great job, Danvers.
“Uh - hi” stuttered Kara, pushing her glasses up her nose.
The lady raised an elegant eyebrow. Kara’s senses picked up the faintest shift in her expression — a micro-smile, almost hidden.
“Flat white”.
“Oh, of course, right away,” Kara replied as she began to make the coffee. Her hands moved on autopilot—grind, tamp, steam, pour—but her attention wasn’t on the machine. She didn’t have to look up to notice the woman’s stillness at the counter, the way her weight shifted slightly from one heel to the other, poised yet impatient. Even her heartbeat was steady, controlled, until the hiss of the steam wand startled it into one quick skip.
Kara glanced at the clock, 08:17 a.m., pretending she hadn’t noticed.
The woman didn’t fill the silence, just watched with a sharp, assessing gaze. Kara’s own heart hammered in her chest. Why is there a goddess in my café?
Then—for just a breath—something shifted. As Kara slid the coffee cup across the counter, their fingers nearly brushed. The woman’s eyes softened, fractionally. Her shoulders dipped as though Kara hadn’t been what she expected, but she approved.
“One flat white” announced Kara, her mouth curving into a smile.
Kara keyed the sale into the till and the woman tapped her card without hesitation, her movements as precise as everything else about her.
“Thanks,” Kara murmured, but the stranger only dipped her head, already carrying the coffee to a corner table.
As she left, Kara caught the faintest trace of her—citrus top notes and something floral beneath. Discreet, almost gone already, but impossible not to notice. She even smells perfect.
Kara let out a breath she hadn’t realised she was holding.
For the next ten minutes, she moved more than necessary – rearranging napkins, polishing surfaces that were already gleaming, sneaking glances at the woman, who drank her flat white with elegant detachment. No phone. No laptop. Just silence and coffee, as if this were the only place in the world she had to be.
Then, just as quickly as she’d arrived, she was gone. Cup empty, chair tucked in with quiet precision, the doorbell chiming her departure.
Kara stared at the empty corner. Maybe this place isn’t so boring after all.
The quiet pressed in again, louder than before.
She was still thinking about it as she went through the process of locking up the café, reaching for the twist rod for the window blinds.
Something moved in the shadows outside. Kara froze. A sleek black cat sat just below the glow of the lamppost, green eyes watching her.
“Hey, boy,” Kara murmured, pausing with the blind. As she turned to reach the door handle, the cat turned regally, and padded away into the shadows.
Huh. Kara tilted the blinds and closed up the café, heading upstairs to the little flat, thinking. For the first time in weeks, the place didn’t feel so empty after all.