Wedding Invitations & Unspoken Realities

The scent of freshly brewed tea swirled in the air, mingling with the comforting warmth of baked pastries as Ava leaned against the counter of her tea shop. The afternoon rush had finally died down, leaving a peaceful lull in the space that she had come to consider her second home.

Across the shop, Ryan was perched on a stool near the register, sleeves rolled up, flipping through a business law journal he had brought along but barely read. Instead, he seemed more interested in watching Ava move around the shop, stealing glances at her when he thought she wasn't looking.

She was looking, of course.

Ava had always been keenly aware of Ryan's presence, but ever since Paris—ever since them—that awareness had deepened. It wasn't just the fact that he was here in the tea shop with her almost every day now, or that he had practically moved into her apartment without either of them officially acknowledging it. It was the little things.