Chapter 7

Sam walked aimlessly through the dimly lit streets, his mind detached from reality. His body moved forward, but his thoughts remained trapped in the past hour—the moment he had witnessed everything fall apart. His emotions had already been battered from his desperate search for Kate, and now, after what he had seen, he felt utterly destroyed. He was emotionally wrecked, mentally drained, and physically worn out.

The betrayal cut deeper than he could comprehend. The people he had trusted, the ones he had believed were closest to him, had deceived him so effortlessly. Every kind word, every affectionate moment he had shared with Kate—it was all a lie. A game. He had been a fool, and the realization gnawed at him relentlessly.

He had already taken the night off from his part-time job at the convenience store, telling himself he needed to rest. But rest felt impossible now. He wanted to go home, collapse on his bed, and let the exhaustion swallow him whole. Yet, even that seemed unattainable when his mind refused to quiet down.

Lost in his thoughts, he didn't notice the pole directly in his path until it was too late. With a dull thud, he collided with it, the sudden impact jolting him back to reality. He staggered back, wincing as he rubbed his forehead. The brief pain was almost welcome—a physical sting to match the emotional turmoil inside him. He let out a dry chuckle, shaking his head at his own carelessness.

A firm hand on his shoulder startled him out of his trance.

"Sam?"

His heart jumped in his chest, and he spun around, disoriented. He blinked rapidly, pulling himself back into reality. Standing before him was a familiar face—Elena.

He hadn't even realized where his feet had carried him, but as he looked around, he found himself near the small coffee shop he visited almost every day. The warm glow from the shop's sign illuminated the sidewalk, a stark contrast to the darkness clouding his thoughts. Elena worked here.

She was his neighbor, living in the adjacent apartment. Their interactions had always been casual, limited to friendly greetings and small talk when he stopped by for coffee. She was a mature woman, independent, confident—someone who always seemed to have a quiet wisdom about her. Seeing her now, with a slightly furrowed brow and a look of concern, was unexpected.

Elena crossed her arms, tilting her head slightly as she studied him. "Man, where's your mind at? I called you a few times, but you didn't even respond."

Sam exhaled sharply, forcing a small, tired smile. "Nothing. Just lost in thought."

She wasn't convinced. Her eyes narrowed slightly. "You look like hell. Something happen?"

He shook his head immediately. "No, it's fine. Just tired."

Elena didn't buy it. She had seen enough people come into the coffee shop carrying burdens they tried to hide, and Sam was no different. But she didn't push, at least not yet. Instead, she nodded toward the shop. "You wanna come in? I was about to close up, but I can make you something. Might help clear your head."

Sam hesitated. He wanted to be alone, but at the same time, the thought of being alone terrified him. If he went back to his apartment now, all he'd be left with were his thoughts—and he wasn't sure he could handle that.

"…Yeah. That'd be nice."

Elena gave a small smile, stepping aside to let him in. "Good. Because you look like you need something stronger than coffee right now."

As he followed her inside, a strange sense of comfort settled over him—something he hadn't felt all day. Maybe, just maybe, he wasn't as alone as he thought.

The coffee shop was unusually empty. At this time of the evening, there were usually a few customers lingering, chatting quietly or working on their laptops. But tonight, it was just them. The absence of people made the space feel larger, yet more intimate at the same time.

The rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, mixing with the subtle scent of cinnamon and vanilla. The warmth of the shop wrapped around Sam like a comforting blanket, a stark contrast to the cold emptiness he felt inside. The soft hum of a jazz tune played from the overhead speakers, adding to the serene atmosphere.

Elena walked behind the counter, rolling up the sleeves of her sweater. "Light or heavy?" she asked, her voice steady but gentle.

Sam hesitated for a moment before answering. "Heavy." He wasn't sure why he said it, but it felt right.

Elena nodded, grabbing a mug and pouring dark, rich coffee into it. Then, to his surprise, she poured a cup for herself as well. She gestured toward a small, private seating area in the corner of the shop—a space separated by a half-wall, offering just enough seclusion. If someone happened to walk in, they might assume something improper, but Elena didn't seem to care. She carried both cups over, setting his down before taking a seat beside him. Not too close, but near enough that he felt her presence.

For a few moments, silence stretched between them. It wasn't uncomfortable, but rather expectant. Elena didn't press him with questions. She simply sat there, sipping her coffee, waiting.

Seconds turned into minutes. The quietness felt deafening to Sam, pressing down on him, urging him to speak. He clenched his fingers around the warm ceramic of the mug, debating whether he should say anything at all. If he shared what was on his mind, would she laugh? Would she dismiss his feelings, just like Kate had once laughed in the auditorium when he had tried to express something vulnerable?

The fear of being mocked gnawed at him, making his throat tighten. He was nineteen—too old to cry over something like this, but too young to know how to handle the pain alone. And yet, what if she understood? What if she didn't laugh?

His thoughts swirled until something warm enveloped his hand. He looked down to find Elena's fingers lightly resting on his, giving a gentle squeeze. The simple gesture sent a wave of comfort through him, as if she was silently telling him, It's okay. I'm here. There's nothing to fear.

Elena studied his face, her dark eyes filled with quiet understanding. "Sam," she said softly. "Did something happen with your girlfriend? Or a friend?"

Her voice carried no judgment, only patience. Sam swallowed hard, staring down into his coffee as if it held the answers to his turmoil.

"…Yeah." His voice was barely above a whisper.

Elena nodded, waiting.

For the first time that night, he let out a shaky breath and allowed himself to speak.