Two Years passed.

I graduated quietly–no cap, no gown, just a soft smile and click of a camera as I stood on a quiet Italian street with a diploma in one hand and warm espresso in the other.

I ended up building a small cafe I named Lucia; I still worked in engineering. I built the cafe because I was bored; it's a night cafe for students to study, you know.

It was peaceful.

The locals adored me; I had some local aunties constantly show up and constantly take pictures of everything. Some of them even tried setting me up with their sons; I told them I had a fiancé lol.

My friends would visit, rotating through the seasons.

They were… proud of me.

For doing so well…

I mean, they weren’t very wrong; I just had someone stuck in the back of my mind.

…

It was a quiet night.

Students typing away at their laptops, some working on group projects, jazz playing in the background. I moved behind the counter, mask covering half my face, sleeves rolled up as I frothed up milk for a cappuccino.

The bell above the door chimed.

I didn’t look up at first–just another customer, I thought.

Until I heard it.

That voice.

I blinked.

For a moment I wondered if I was dreaming.

Zed stood there tall, sharp in a perfectly tailored suit. His hair was slicked back; it looked like he was on some sort of business trip.

He looked the same, just older, though his eyes were much colder.

“Posso avere una tazza di espresso?” Zed said smoothly.

I almost dropped the milk.

Two years–he probably forgot me…

“Coming right up!” I answered carefully, keeping my tone professional.

I worked silently, every move automatic, while my mind screamed.

When I slid the white cup across, Zed offered me a small nod–polite and distant and moved to sit by the window, pulling out a leather notebook.

No recognition.

Not even a look of confusion.

I leaned against the counter, heart hammering against my ribs.

He moved on… what did I expect...?

I whipped the counter slowly with steady hands. 

I mean, I did give him trauma… And I’m “dead”...

It's only right he forgets.

I tried to convince myself to get over it.

And yet–

When Zed’s phone rang and he stepped outside to answer it, my eyes followed him.

The way his hand lingered near his coat a few moments longer, the way he scanned the street before speaking–too cautious.

My gut twisted.

That's not a businessman. I thought.

Minutes later, wearing the same attire as Zed, the man looked like he had a gun in his coat.

Years of my criminal upbringing can now tell whether someone has a gun or not.

The man glanced around, his gaze landing on the empty table where Zed had been, and cursed under his breath. He pulled out his phone and spoke in rapid fire Italien.

Something about the “package” and it being stolen.

Something about “eliminate any witnesses.”

I froze in front of the coffee machine. 

Oh, I thought numbly. I’m the witness.

The man's eyes slid towards me. Sharp calculating.

And I realized too late that I was a part of something dangerous.

The door opened again; Zed walked back in, expression unreadable, phone tucked away.

His gaze swept the cafe, landing on me for just half a second longer than necessary.

And for the first time that night, something flickered in his eyes.

Something almost… familiar.

The tension broke like stepping on a twig.

The man reached inside his jacket–

And instinct took over.

I didn’t think. I moved.

Years of childhood street smarts kicking in.

I grabbed a tray and smashed it into the man's hand just as he drew his gun, sending it skidding across the floor.

The cafe exploded into chaos.