It took Donovan days—long, torturous days—of repeating to himself that Agatha was just Connor’s friend before he could finally push past the lingering ache in his chest. He had told himself over and over again that there was nothing to be jealous of, nothing to mourn. And yet, the memory of that embrace still burned in the back of his mind, stubborn and unrelenting.

He needed closure, and being locked up was not helping at all. He decided to go to the café, hoping that the familiar scent of coffee and fresh pastries would soothe him, grounding him in something warm and steady. But the moment he stepped inside, he heard her voice.

“Boss, I’m here!”

The words hit him like a slap. His breath caught in his throat as his stomach twisted. He had come here intending to silently, irrationally apologize to her in his heart, but hearing her now—so cheerful, so unaffected—made something ugly and bitter stir inside him.

“Great!” her boss responded, handing her a stack of dishes. “Put on your uniform and take this to the kitchen, please.”

Donovan barely registered the exchange. His mind was too busy reeling from the realization that someone had taken his usual spot. The seat he had claimed as his haven, where he had convinced himself he could watch Agatha unnoticed, was now occupied by someone else.

And worse—he was sitting in her section.

For a brief moment, he considered walking out. But that would be childish, wouldn’t it? Instead, he forced himself to take a deep breath, to keep his expression neutral. If she refused to serve him, her boss would ask questions. If she acknowledged him, he’d have to sit through whatever awkwardness came next. Time seemed to stop before she finally approached him, her voice as steady as ever.

“Good evening, sir. What can I get for you?”

Donovan didn’t even look up from his laptop. He couldn’t. If he met her gaze, she might see the turmoil he was barely keeping in check.

“A mocha, please.” His voice came out flat, devoid of emotion.

Agatha exhaled quietly, shoulders subtly relaxing. They both knew it was going to be a long, shitty evening.

When Donovan started following Agatha, her friends noticed a radical shift in her routine. She was more open to hanging out, no longer slipping away with vague excuses or cold dismissals. She had even taken a part-time job at a café—a choice that would have seemed absurd just a few months ago.

At first, they assumed it was because they now knew her secret about her brother. Without the need for constant vigilance, she didn’t have to measure every word or carefully navigate their conversations. It made sense. At least, that’s what she told herself, too.

So, when they invited her to their favorite themed café, she hesitated—out of habit, out of instinct—but their persistence chipped away at her reluctance. She always had an excuse, always something to take care of. But this time, she had nothing to hide behind. And somehow, without quite knowing how, she found herself agreeing. It was… fun.

She had laughed more than she expected, let herself be pulled into games she hadn’t played in years, and for a few brief hours, she had forgotten about everything else. But reality had a way of catching up, and by the time she checked the clock, she was late for work.

She was drained when she reached her workplace. Socializing always left her exhausted, no matter how much she enjoyed it. All she wanted was a quiet shift, one where she could blend into the background and move on autopilot until closing.

Then, she saw him. Her stomach dropped. Donovan was sitting in her section. Her fingers twitched at her side, a quiet, instinctual reaction to something that felt too close to an ambush. She exhaled slowly, forcing her body to relax. He was just another customer. That was all. Still, something was… different.

As she moved behind the counter, she stole a glance at him. His expression was carefully neutral, but she could see the tension in his shoulders, the tightness in his jaw. He was trying to act unaffected, but it was an act.

And then she realized. He was glaring at her. A sharp, piercing stare. It wasn’t the watchful curiosity she was used to. No, this was different. It was guarded, like he had built a wall between them overnight. The realization sent a jolt through her, an uncomfortable flicker of confusion she hated acknowledging.

What the hell was that about?

Agatha wanted nothing more than to beg her boss to let someone else handle the table. Anyone else. But she was already in trouble for being late, and the last thing she needed was to add another strike to the list.

So, she forced herself to move. ‘It’s just a drink. Just another customer.’ But as she approached, the weight of Donovan’s presence pressed down on her, setting her instincts on edge. She wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was the way he sat—too rigid, too composed. Maybe it was the way he refused to acknowledge her, eyes locked on his screen like she wasn’t even there.

She forced a smile as she set his drink down. “Here you go.”

It was polite—maybe even a little forced—but it was an olive branch. A way to smooth over whatever the hell this tension was.

“Thanks.”

Curt. Dismissive. No eye contact. Just a quick, clipped response before he went right back to typing, like she was nothing more than an afterthought. Her stomach twisted. Something about it irritated her more than it should have.

Agatha turned away, pretending she didn’t care, pretending it didn’t bother her. She threw herself into her work, taking orders, delivering drinks, making small talk when necessary. But no matter how much she tried to shake it, her mind kept drifting back to him.

‘What is going on in that stupid brain of his?’ she asked herself. She wanted to crack it open, dissect every thought, figure out what had changed overnight to make him act like this. But that would mean caring. And she didn’t.

She had made a decision. For now, she would pretend she hadn’t noticed anything was amiss. The last thing she needed was Donovan prying into her life, asking questions she couldn’t answer.

All she could do was wait, serving customers with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, her thoughts consumed by the quiet, troubled figure sitting in the corner.

Finally, a few hours later, the doorbell chimed, snapping Agatha out of the downward spiral of her thoughts. She turned instinctively, and relief flooded through her at the sight of Allison, Connor, and Ezra stepping inside, their presence as effortless as ever. Her heart eased, the tension in her shoulders loosening just a little. But what really caught her attention was Donovan.

At the sound of Connor’s voice, his entire demeanor shifted. The rigid posture, the quiet simmer of hostility—it all melted away in an instant. His expression relaxed, his fingers pausing over his keyboard, as if the very presence of Connor had flipped a switch inside him.

And just like that, everything clicked for Agatha. Oh. Oh. A slow, knowing smile curled at the edge of her lips. So that’s what this was about. She had suspected before, but now she was certain. Donovan wasn’t just watching Connor. He wasn’t just interested. He was obsessed. And that? That was something Agatha could use. But not tonight. She’d put a pin in that little revelation for later.

Right now, she had better things to do—like enjoying the night with her friends. Agatha was the designated driver of the group, so they took her car and they started the party there. They had a personalized playlist in Harmoniq, their music streaming app, that always knew which songs would lift their mood.

Allison had called shotgun, so she had control of the playlist, but the group had pretty similar tastes in music, so no one complained. Connor and Ezra were playfully singing in the back, sometimes purposefully out of tune while dancing, making Agatha laugh. The night was off to a fun start, with everyone cheering and laughing.

Soon enough, they arrived at the karaoke and immediately headed for the room they were assigned by the manager. The colorful light added to the thrill Agatha got for finally being able to hang out with her friends.

When it was Agatha and Allison’s turn, they chose to sing a powerful duet. Their voices harmonized effortlessly, each note blending perfectly with the other. As they sang, the room fell silent, captivated by their performance.

Next up was Connor. He picked a breakup song, the kind that was heavy with emotion and dripping with heartbreak, quite a contrast to the happy songs they were singing their hearts out in the car. As the song progressed, the mood in the room shifted, and worried glances were exchanged.

It was unusual for Connor to choose such a melancholic tune, and the heartfelt way he sang it made everyone wonder if something was going on beneath his cheerful exterior.

Then, Ezra took the stage, choosing songs in Japanese and Korean. His voice was smooth and confident, though his Korean pronunciation made Agatha wince. She couldn’t help but mentally critique his accent—her proficiency in the language made every mistake stand out. But when he switched to Japanese, she was caught off guard. Since when did Ezra know Japanese?

If he was actually fluent, this could be interesting. Her mind was already spinning with possibilities, picturing the perfect scenario to confuse their friends.

The night continued with more laughter, songs, and playful teasing, each person adding their own flair to the karaoke night, but Agatha’s social battery was already running out and her friends could tell.

Allison was the first to speak up, her voice gentle. “Maybe it’s time we call it a night?”

Ezra nodded in agreement, his eyes on Agatha, who was stifling a yawn. “Yeah, it’s getting late. We’ve had our fun.”

Connor gave a sympathetic smile, already reaching for his jacket. “Let’s head out. We can always do this again another time.”

Agatha blinked, a bit surprised but grateful. She wasn’t one to admit when she was worn out, but tonight, she didn’t have to. Her friends knew her well enough to sense when it was time to wrap things up.

“Thanks, guys,” she said, her voice softer than usual. She offered a tired smile, one that spoke volumes of her appreciation.

As she drove her friends home, she felt a warmth in her heart that she didn’t know was possible. She was so thankful that her uncle had given her the motivation she needed to attend college and have a ‘normal’ life.

When Agatha arrived home, her brother immediately noticed the smile on her face. He didn’t know if he should ask, it was the first time in a while that he saw his sister with such a pure expression.

“Do I have something on my face?” Agatha giggled. “You keep staring at me.”

“You’re smiling, Agatha,” Koray noted, seizing the chance to ask what had happened.

“Am I?” She tried to relax her expression, but it was useless. Even without the smile, Koray could tell she’d had a great night—and he was curious to know why.

Leaning against the kitchen counter, Agatha watched as her brother poured himself a cup of tea. “I went to karaoke with my friends. Nothing special.”

Koray didn’t buy it, but he knew better than to push. She was his sister, but even he wasn’t foolish enough to provoke her when she didn’t want to talk.

“Did you have fun?” he asked instead, offering an easy smile to keep the conversation going.

Agatha launched into a recap of her night, going on about how wonderful her friends were, subtly steering the conversation, making it obvious she wanted to ask something.