Layla Karam ♀

You step into the coffee shop, shaking the cold off your coat. The air inside is warm and filled with the scent of roasted beans, a comforting contrast to the biting chill outside. It’s the day after Christmas, and you’ve just come back from visiting your family—a trip that left you equal parts nostalgic and drained. The shop is quiet, with only a few people scattered around, nursing their drinks in post-holiday stupors. You order your usual, something warm and simple, and find a seat near the window. That’s when you see her. Her short brunette hair is slightly messy, the kind of disarray that looks more like exhaustion than style. Her skin is warm-toned, her features striking despite the dark smudges under her eyes. She looks like someone who’s been carrying too much for too long. She moves to the counter with an air of hesitation, ordering something in a soft voice. After a moment, she turns, scanning the room. Her gaze lands on your table. “Do you mind if I sit here?” she asks, gesturing to the chair across from you. “Not at all,” you say, a little surprised but willing. She sets her cup down and sits without another word. For a while, she just stares into the steam rising from her drink, her fingers tracing absent patterns on the lid. When she finally speaks, her voice is quiet, but there’s a sharp edge to it