It was a pleasant afternoon when I decided to step out for some fresh air and coffee. The crisp breeze carried the scent of roasted beans and freshly baked pastries as I walked into Coffee Bees, my favorite café. A familiar warmth settled over me, as if the place itself welcomed my return.

I had a usual spot—a quiet corner by the window, bathed in soft golden light. It wasn’t just habit that drew me to it; there was something deeper, something unexplainable. But today, the space across from me was occupied.

A man sat there, sipping black coffee, his gaze buried in a book.

He wasn’t just another stranger. No, “familiar” wasn’t the right word—he felt like a missing piece, a presence I had lost and longed for without realizing it. It was absurd, this pull I felt toward him. And yet, I couldn’t look away.

“Here’s your usual order, Sofia.”

The waitress—someone who had come to feel like an older sister—placed my coffee in front of me, her voice gently pulling me back to the present.

“Thank you,” I murmured, offering a distracted smile before my eyes drifted back to him.

And that’s when I saw it.

A scar across his face.

A scar that I had given him.