The morning sun spilled lazily through the kitchen windows, casting soft gold across the counters. The air smelled of coffee, toast, and the faint sweetness of lilies from yesterday's centerpieces. Somewhere in the living room, Maya's playlist hummed quietly, upbeat enough to keep her from losing her mind over last-minute wedding details.
Elena sat at the breakfast table, trying to look absorbed in her phone. She'd scrolled through the same messages twice, her coffee untouched, her thoughts refusing to settle. Every time she blinked, she saw Adrian's face again — the way he'd said, "She's not my type."
And worse — the way he hadn't answered when she asked who was.
Maya breezed in wearing an oversized shirt that read Bridezilla (In Progress) and a towel around her head. "Morning, sleepyhead," she chirped, rummaging through the fridge. "You okay? You look like you had a dream you can't decide if you liked or not."
Elena gave her a weak smile. "Something like that."
Before Maya could pry further, Leela floated in — all energy and perfume — already dressed like she had a brunch date with destiny. "Morning, my favorite people!" she sang, sliding onto the chair opposite Elena. "Maya, I need your opinion. Do you think this dress works for the rehearsal dinner?"
"It's beautiful," Maya said automatically, reaching for her mug. "And you're evil for looking that good at nine a.m."
Leela laughed, tossing her curls. "I try."
Adrian appeared in the doorway then, in a dark shirt rolled at the sleeves, holding his phone to his ear. His voice was low, controlled — discussing logistics, probably. When he hung up, his eyes swept briefly over the room, pausing — just for a second — on Elena.
Leela noticed. Her smile sharpened.
"Adrian," she called, "you're early! I thought men like you don't function before noon."
"I had work calls," he said simply, moving to pour himself coffee. "And Maya threatened to make me help with decorations."
Maya grinned. "You're not escaping that."
"Wouldn't dream of it." He leaned against the counter, stirring his coffee slowly.
Leela propped her chin on her hand, studying him. "You know, I could use a hand choosing flowers. You look like you have opinions."
Adrian's gaze flicked toward her, polite but distant. "You wouldn't want mine."
"Try me."
Elena pretended to check her phone again, though her ears were burning.
Maya's phone buzzed and she groaned. "The caterer's here early. Great. You two," she pointed between Adrian and Leela, "can start looking through the floral samples. Elena, help me out back?"
"Sure."
As Elena followed her friend out the back door, she glanced once over her shoulder — just in time to see Leela laughing at something Adrian said. He wasn't smiling, not exactly, but his expression had softened, and that tiny change hit Elena in a way she didn't expect. She looked away quickly, gripping the door handle tighter.
Outside, Maya was already giving directions to two flustered caterers, but she still found time to shoot Elena a side glance. "You really don't like Leela, do you?"
"She's fine," Elena muttered.
"Right," Maya said, smirking. "And Adrian's just a coworker."
"I didn't say—"
"You didn't have to."
Elena sighed, giving up the argument before it began. "You're impossible."
Maya grinned. "I'm married soon. That makes me wise."
Before Elena could roll her eyes, laughter drifted from inside — Leela's voice again, bright and teasing. Elena's chest tightened, an ache she couldn't name pressing against her ribs.
Inside, Adrian had gone quiet again, his eyes occasionally flicking toward the door as though he could still feel her presence somewhere nearby.
When Leela leaned closer to show him her phone — some flower arrangement that had too much color and not enough calm — he barely looked.
"Too much," he said.
She blinked. "You mean the flowers?"
His jaw tightened slightly. "Something like that."