Chapter 5

The café smelled like roasted dreams — fresh beans, warm bread, and just a hint of cinnamon curling through the air. Daisy pushed open the door, the bell above them chiming softly. Ethan was right behind her, grinning like he already knew how this was going to go.

“So, what’s your usual poison?” he asked, nudging her playfully. “Don’t tell me it’s a sad little Americano.”

Daisy shot him a look. “Cappuccino. Every time. Non-negotiable.”

As they reached the counter, the barista spotted her and instantly brightened.

“Cappuccino, right?” he said, already reaching for a cup.

Ethan blinked. “Wait—what? How do you know?”

The barista leaned casually on the counter, grinning. “She’s a regular. Shows up like clockwork. Hard to miss.”

Then, with a teasing glint in his eye, he added, “Boyfriend hai kya?”

Daisy nearly choked on her own breath. “Wh–WHAT?! No! No-no-no! I just met him! Ten minutes ago! I swear—don’t start a rom-com here!”

Behind her, Ethan was silently cracking up, clearly relishing every second of this trainwreck.

Trying to reclaim her dignity, Daisy turned toward him with a dramatic toss of her hair. “Anyway. What about you, Mr. London? Impress me.”

Ethan leaned against the counter, giving the barista a grin. “Surprise me. But whatever it is, make sure it’s cooler than a cappuccino.”

She gasped. “The disrespect!”

The barista laughed as he scribbled something on their cups. “One classic. One ego boost. Got it.”

Just as Daisy reached for her wallet, chaos arrived — right on cue.

A server wove between tables, balancing a tray stacked high with iced drinks. At the worst possible moment, her foot caught on a massive tote bag lying half in the aisle.

One wrong step.

The tray tilted.

Three iced coffees launched into the air like caffeinated grenades.

SPLASH.

SPLAT.

Everything stopped.

Cold brew splattered across the floor. One drink painted a dark streak down Daisy’s white kurta sleeve. Another landed squarely on her tote. The third exploded on the floor like a mini-monsoon.

Daisy just stood there, blinking at the mess around her. “What is even happening?!” she groaned, tossing her head back dramatically. “Why? Why me? My bag—MY POOR BAG!”

Ethan, of course, was absolutely no help. He was doubled over, laughing so hard he nearly dropped his phone.

“Do you have, like, a magnetic field that pulls in disaster?” he managed through gasps. “Rogue drinks, specifically?”

Daisy snatched a napkin from the counter and began furiously dabbing at her sleeve, as if her willpower could erase the chaos. “This is how villains are born. I’m going to haunt this café. I’ll be a ghost in the espresso machine.”

“I support that,” Ethan said solemnly. “You’d be iconic. The Cursed Cup Girl.”

She gave him a withering glare. “You’re enjoying this.”

“Oh, immensely. This is the most exciting coffee run I’ve ever had.”

A barista rushed over, apologizing profusely and offering her a free espresso shot “for the trauma.”

Ethan took it and held it out to her like a peace offering. “Your redemption shot.”

She sighed, accepting it. “One more spill and I’m opening my own café. I’ll call it Oops Again.”

Ethan grinned. “Can I do marketing? Tagline: ‘Where coffee meets chaos.’ Or better yet—‘We serve spills with a side of caffeine.’”

Daisy couldn’t help it. She laughed, despite the soaked sleeve, the ruined tote, and the sticky trail of cold brew on the floor.

Then she reached for her wallet.

“Wait—what are you doing?” Ethan asked quickly. “No, no, I’m paying—”

“You laughed at my tragedy. And insulted my cappuccino,” she said sweetly, tapping her card against the reader. “So technically, I owe you nothing.”

“That’s not how hospitality works!”

“Oh, but it is,” she said, turning to him with a smug smile. “You’re the tourist. I’m the local. And in India, guests don’t pay.”

He blinked, surprised. A small, amused smile tugged at his lips.

“Well then,” he said, stepping closer, “what if I want to return the favor?”

She raised a brow. “Then I guess… if I ever visit London, you can buy me a cup of tea. Or one of those weird vinegar chips you people keep trying to convince the world are snacks.”

He stared at her for a second — just one extra beat too long.

Then smiled. “Deal,” he said quietly. “But I’m getting you all the vinegar chips.”

Daisy rolled her eyes, laughing as she brushed off her sleeve again and stepped aside with him to wait.

As if I’m going to London anytime soon… but hey, a girl can dream.

Despite the mess, despite the ruined bag and the espresso drip clinging to her sleeve, Daisy felt something bubbling under the surface — warm, unexpected, and definitely not from the coffee.

They finally landed at a little table by the window, both still laughing from the chaotic caffeine disaster. Daisy was patting her poor tote with napkins like it was a wounded animal, while Ethan stirred his Americano with unnecessary vengeance.

“You know,” he said, eyes still twinkling, “from the bench, you had this whole calm, coffee-core aesthetic going. Very composed. Very poetic.”

She didn’t even look up. “Yeah, well. That was the filtered version of me.”

Ethan smirked. “And this is the unfiltered chaos?”

She finally met his gaze with a grin. “Welcome to the real show.”

He raised his cup in salute. “A disaster with a loyalty card and a refined palate. I’m honored.”

She took a sip, leaned back, and let the moment breathe for a second. Then, casually, she asked, “So tell me, London boy — what keeps you up at 2 AM?”

He looked mildly startled, but not in a bad way. “Wow. Straight to the existential hour?”

She shrugged. “My coffee’s already had a rough day. No time for small talk.”

He tilted his head, considering. “Okay. Sometimes it’s big stuff — like whether I’m even on the right path. And sometimes it’s dumb stuff. Like… do pigeons have best friends?”

That got a laugh out of her. “Pigeons? That’s what’s haunting you at 2 AM?”

“Dead serious,” he said, completely straight-faced. “One of them was following me yesterday. I think we had a moment.”

Just as Daisy was about to reply to his pigeon theory, her phone buzzed on the table.

She glanced at the screen, then did a double take.

[“Where are you??” – Priya]

Her eyes shot to the clock.

8:02 PM.

Her mouth dropped open. “Oh my gosh… wait—what?! It’s eight?! Already?!”

She looked at Ethan like time had physically betrayed her. “No way. Time flew. Like—how is it even eight?!”

She scrambled to grab her tote, still blotting the damp corners with a napkin. “Priya’s gonna murder me. She’s probably sitting there like a red tomato right now. Fuming. Literally steaming.”

She slung her bag over her shoulder and stood, her voice breathless but sincere. “Ethan… I really have to go. I totally lost track. But this—” she paused, eyes locking with his for a second, “—this was honestly… really nice.”

Ethan stood too, a little caught off guard, but recovering quickly.

“Wait—uh, Daisy… would it be alright if I got your number? Or maybe your Insta? Just… maybe we could connect?”

She froze mid-step, half-turned toward the door.

Then smiled — not the quick, amused kind. This one was slower. Softer. The kind that meant something.

“I know this might sound weird,” she said, voice quieting, “but I’m kind of a fate person.”

He tilted his head. “Like astrology-fate? Or rom-com-in-the-rain fate?”

She laughed. “Not horoscopes. Just… universe signs. Little nudges. Like how we met.”

There was a pause. A heartbeat.

“Tomorrow’s Saturday,” she continued. “Office is closed. I won’t be here.”

Ethan’s smile faltered just a little, but he stayed quiet.

“But… if we randomly bump into each other tomorrow — not planned, not messaged — just… by chance… then I’ll take that as a sign. And I’ll give you my number.”

He blinked. “You’re serious?”

“Dead serious.”

He stared at her — still a little stunned, but not upset. If anything, he looked quietly impressed.

“I know it’s ridiculous,” she added, her voice a touch shy now. “But… that’s just how I am.”

“No,” he said with a soft grin, “I get it. Destiny girl rules.”

She gave him a small wave. “Goodbye, London boy.”

“See you when the stars align,” he called after her.

And with that, she slipped out the door into the soft, rain-washed night — city lights flickering, the streets glistening, and her heart buzzing just enough to know this wasn’t over.

Not yet.

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