POV: Lily Navarro

The café wasn’t fancy—just warm.

It was tucked along a cobbled street near the canal, all wooden beams, twinkle lights, and mismatched chairs. The tables were small, the mugs were oversized, and the air smelled like buttered pretzels and cinnamon sugar.

Berlin in the evening was colder than Lily expected. But the laughter around her, the cozy lighting, the clink of mugs against wood—it all helped. Just a little.

Freya had looped her arm through Lily’s the moment they stepped inside.

“Drink or no drink, you’re coming,” she’d said earlier that afternoon. “We’re not letting you rot in your pastel hoodie all weekend.”

Now Lily sat at the edge of a group of coworkers, cheeks slightly flushed from the warmth and noise. She held a cup of heiße Schokolade—hot chocolate, thankfully not too sweet—and tried not to look like a lost tourist every time someone ordered in rapid-fire German.

Santi slid into the seat beside her, casual and golden as ever.

“Still holding onto your ‘no alcohol’ policy?” he asked with a grin.

She smiled. “Still afraid of it turning me into an anime character.”

He laughed. “A drunk Lily sketching aggressively in the corner might be iconic.”

“I’d probably cry over proportions.”

“I’d pay to see that,” he teased.

Julian arrived a few minutes later, greeting everyone with a relaxed nod. His coat was long, dark gray, tailored. His smile was easy.

When he spotted Lily, he waved—and took the seat across from her.

“I see they dragged you out,” he said, lips curving into a smirk.

“I was bribed,” she replied. “Freya promised hot chocolate and a seat far away from corporate drama.”

“You wound me,” Julian said. “I’m very chill outside of meetings.”

“Right. That’s why your coat looks like it has stocks in it.”

Julian chuckled, sipping from a clear glass of beer. “Touché, Miss Navarro.”

And for a moment, it was just light laughter and flickering candlelight.

Then the door opened.

And Lily saw him.

Matteo.

Wearing a black coat, scarf still loosely wrapped around his neck, hair slightly damp from the misty night air. He paused by the door, scanning the room—and for the briefest second, his gaze landed on her.

Lily’s breath caught.

Freya leaned in immediately. “Oh my god. He came.”

“I didn’t think he would,” Lily whispered.

“I told you,” Lena said from behind her. “That man has main character syndrome.”

Matteo didn’t join them right away. He walked to the counter, ordered something in quiet German, and waited. Alone.

Santi turned slightly to follow her gaze. “He’s not really the café type, huh?”

“Not really,” Lily muttered.

Julian arched a brow. “You okay?”

She blinked. “Yeah. Just… surprised.”

Julian’s gaze shifted to Matteo briefly, then back to her. His expression unreadable.

Matteo took his coffee and sat at a nearby table. Not too close. Not too far. Alone, as always.

He didn’t look at her again.

But he stayed.

An hour passed.

Freya and Nico argued about movies. Lena tried to explain the difference between Spätzle and Knödel to Lily while drawing stick figures on a napkin. Santi attempted to teach her how to say “Ich kann kein Deutsch” (I don’t speak German), which ended in chaos.

“Eek… kan… kain… dush?” Lily frowned.

Santi laughed. “So close. Except you just told me you’re a dish.”

“Honestly not the worst thing I’ve ever said on accident,” she mumbled, cheeks warm.

Julian leaned closer across the table. “Want me to write it down for you?”

“Sure,” she said, passing him the napkin.

He wrote it quickly, elegant handwriting as controlled as everything else about him.

“’Ich kann kein Deutsch.’ Now read it back.”

“Eekh kan kine doytsh,” she said carefully.

Julian smiled. “Very good.”

“You’re just saying that because you’re my boss.”

He raised a brow. “That doesn’t make you less charming.”

Lily blinked, surprised.

The table quieted. Lena coughed. Santi smirked.

Julian sipped his beer and casually looked away, as if he hadn’t just dropped a lowkey flirt in the middle of her lukewarm pronunciation lesson.

Lily reached for her hot chocolate and tried to focus on the foam.

Later, while everyone was busy deciding whether to order dessert or head home, Lily stepped outside for air.

The street was quieter now. Lamps glowing. A light drizzle misted the stone steps.

She leaned against the wall, watching her breath fog the air.

“Too much German for one night?”

She turned.

Matteo stood a few feet away, cup still in hand, coat collar turned up. His tone was casual. His eyes weren’t.

“Too much attention,” Lily said honestly.

He nodded once.

“You didn’t have to come,” she added softly.

“I know.”

“But you did.”

A pause. His fingers tightened around his coffee cup.

“I wasn’t going to,” he said. “Then I did.”

She smiled a little. “That’s very German of you.”

He actually blinked. “What?”

“Making logical decisions… then doing the opposite, but acting like it was part of the plan.”

His mouth twitched. Not quite a smile. But close.

“I don’t like loud groups,” he said.

“Neither do I.”

“I like hot drinks.”

“Same.”

Silence stretched again—but it wasn’t awkward.

Just… full.

Lily looked down at her boots. “Thanks for staying.”

He didn’t answer.

But he didn’t leave either.