Terms and Conditions
Rina stared at Helena Wu's business card for the third night in a row.
It sat on her nightstand like a question mark. She hadn't called. Hadn't texted. But… she hadn't thrown it away either.
That was the part bothering her.
Because her heart wasn't racing when she thought about Helena.
It only did that when she thought about Kira.
🕘 The Next Morning – Café
The first thing Rina noticed when she arrived was the air.
Different.
Tense.
Then she saw it—on the counter, waiting for her shift:
A box. Matte black. Her name in neat lettering on top.
Ava leaned in. "Ooh. Fancy. Secret admirer?"
"I doubt it," Rina muttered. But she was already opening it.
Inside:A brand new apron, deep navy blue, with embroidered gold text:
Syntek Café – Lead Barista: Rina Cha.
Underneath it: a note.
You've made an impression. Officially.— Kira
Rina nearly dropped the box.
"Okay, that's not subtle," Ava whispered. "That's a corporate love letter."
Rina's hands trembled as she lifted the apron. It was heavier than it looked. Custom. Premium. Like someone had actually invested in her.
She swallowed hard.
🛗 59th Floor – Later That Day
She didn't knock this time.
Just walked in, heart pounding.
Kira looked up from her desk. Cool as ever. But her eyes flicked briefly to the apron in Rina's hands.
"Fits you."
"You—uh—got this made?"
"I have resources. You've earned it."
Rina stared at her. "Kira, why are you doing this?"
A beat.
Kira stood. Walked around the desk until she was facing Rina—too close again. Always too close.
"Because someone else noticed you."
That stopped Rina cold.
Kira's gaze didn't waver.
"I didn't like it."
Rina's heart dropped into her stomach.
"You saw?"
"I see everything."
"Kira…"
A long silence stretched between them, taut like cable.
Then Kira said, voice lower than usual:
"Tell me what you want, Rina. Because I know what I want."
Rina's breath hitched.
"Me?"
Kira didn't smile.
But her eyes—those cold, green eyes—finally, finally softened.
"Yes. You. But not just in my building. Not just behind a counter. I want to know what makes you laugh. What scares you. Why you doodle foam bunnies when you're sad."
Rina felt her eyes sting.
"I—I'm not like you," she whispered. "I cry at commercials. I panic when someone raises their voice. I—"
"I know," Kira said.
"And I still want to try."
Rina didn't say anything.
She didn't have to.
She just stepped forward and reached—carefully—placing her hand over Kira's, where it rested against the desk.
It was the softest touch in the hardest room.
And Kira didn't pull away.