Ethan ended the call and slid his phone into the breast pocket of his coat, letting out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. That was it. All the client needed to hear. His shoulders dropped slightly—not relaxed, but just... less tense. He stood on the sidewalk for a beat, letting the wind cut across his face, the noise of passing cars doing little to drown out the dull throb behind his eyes.

His feet moved before he could think. Muscle memory, maybe. Or just habit. Either way, they carried him to the coffee shop on the corner, the one with the old brick exterior and the warm lights that spilled through fogged-up windows. He didn't even like coffee. Never did. But somehow, this place had a pull to it.

The bell above the door jingled softly as he stepped inside. The scent hit him first—earthy beans, a hint of caramel, maybe cinnamon—and the warmth after the bitter wind outside felt like a blanket thrown over cold bones. He shoved his hands into his pockets and scanned the room. Quiet. Just a couple of people scattered at tables, typing away at laptops or scrolling through their phones. His eyes found the barista behind the counter, and something in his chest tightened.

He almost turned around right then. Walked right back out into the cold. But his feet didn't move. Instead, he stepped up to the counter, gaze flicking between the chalkboard menu and the barista before looking at their name tag.

"Uh... hello," he started, voice a little rough around the edges. "Can I ask—what do people usually order here?" He rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding eye contact for a second before glancing up. "I'm not a coffee guy... figured I'd try whatever's popular."

The words came out clipped. Not cold, just... hesitant. It was as if they had to pass through a dozen checkpoints before making it out of his mouth. Ethan glanced down at the counter, avoiding eye contact. His fingers tapped absently against the seam of his coat. When the drink came, he thanked the barista under his breath and carried it to a small corner table by the window. He sat, stretched his legs out just a bit too far, and stared at the foam swirling in the cup like it held answers he hadn't asked for yet.