Liana wasn't supposed to be at work that early.
It was technically her day off. But she woke up before her alarm, staring at the ceiling of her room, feeling restless for no clear reason. She tried closing her eyes again. Didn't work.
So she got up.
She showered, tied her hair into a low ponytail, wore a simple blouse and jeans, and headed to the café.
The Green Cup Café was still quiet when she arrived. The street outside was barely awake. She unlocked the door and stepped inside.
The small bell above the door rang softly.
She liked that sound. It meant the day was starting.
She turned on the lights, placed her bag behind the counter, and began her routine. Wipe the tables. Arrange the chairs. Check the espresso machine. Water the plants near the window.
Mornings like this were her favorite. No noise. No rush. Just her and the smell of coffee.
She was adjusting the cups on the shelf when she heard the door open again.
The bell rang.
She turned.
A man stepped inside.
He was tall, wearing a black jacket, hair slightly messy like he didn't bother fixing it properly. A camera hung around his neck. He paused near the entrance, scanning the place like he was taking it all in.
"Are you open?" he asked.
His voice was calm. Not rude. Not overly friendly either.
"Five minutes," Liana replied. "But you can order already."
He nodded and walked toward the counter.
"Black coffee," he said. "Hot."
"That's it?"
"That's it."
She started preparing his drink. She could feel his presence in front of her quiet, observant. Not the type who fills silence just to avoid it.
She placed the cup in front of him.
"Here you go."
He reached for his wallet, but she spoke first.
"It's on the house."
He looked up.
"Opening coffee," she added quickly. "You're the first customer."
He hesitated. "Are you sure?"
She nodded.
For a brief second, their eyes met properly.
Nothing dramatic happened. No slow motion. No sudden music in the background. Just eye contact.
"Thank you," he said.
He took his coffee and sat near the window, at the table beside the tall indoor plant. A few seconds later, she heard the soft clicking sound of a camera shutter.
She glanced over.
He wasn't taking pictures of people. He was capturing the light coming through the glass, the way it hit the wooden tables.
Curious, she stepped a little closer.
"You're a photographer?" she asked.
"Yeah," he replied, adjusting his lens. "Freelance."
"From around here?"
He shook his head. "Just staying for a while."
Just staying for a while.
She didn't know why that answer felt… temporary. Like he was someone who didn't stay in one place too long.
She returned to the counter, pretending to organize the sugar packets. A few minutes later, she noticed he lifted his camera again.
This time, it was slightly angled toward her.
Not obvious. Not uncomfortable. Just… casual.
After finishing his coffee, he stood and walked back to the counter.
"What's your name?" he asked.
She blinked, a little caught off guard. "Liana."
He nodded. "Adrian."
The silence returned, but it didn't feel heavy.
Before she could stop herself, she asked, "Are you coming back?"
He paused.
He glanced at his empty cup.
"Depends," he said. "If the coffee's good again."
There was the slightest hint of amusement in his tone.
Then he walked toward the door.
The bell rang once more as he stepped outside.
And suddenly, the café felt quieter than before.
Liana stood there for a moment longer than necessary. It was just a customer. Nothing special.
She walked to his table to clean up.
That's when she noticed something.
A small receipt left behind.
She picked it up.
On the back, written in neat handwriting:
Same time tomorrow?
She didn't realize she was smiling until she felt her cheeks lift.
It wasn't because she was sure he'd come back.
It was because, for the first time in a while, she had something to look forward to in the morning.
And it wasn't just work.