The rain had started halfway through the late shift, tapping against the glass like a warning. Most of the crowd had cleared out by then, just a few stray customers lingering for warmth or silence. The café lights had dimmed, humming low, and the only real sound was the hiss of the steamer and the occasional shuffle of chairs being stacked.

She came in just past closing, the kind of entrance that didn't need permission. No umbrella. Just a long black coat soaked at the collar, drops trailing down her bare collarbone like silver. She didn't speak at first. Just stood inside the door, one hand in her coat pocket, the other holding her phone like she'd been waiting for this exact moment.

Her eyes scanned the empty shop and found the girl behind the counter. Soft, quiet. The apron was half-off, her lips parted like she was going to say something and forgot what. Perfect.

She walked toward the counter slowly, the heels of her boots clicking like punctuation. When she reached it, she didn't lean in. She didn't smile. Just set the key down in front of her, glinting beneath the fluorescents.

Front lot. Ten minutes. No jacket. No bag. Just you.

The girl blinked. No sound came out. Her fingers flexed against the counter like she wanted to reach for the key but didn't know if she was allowed.

The woman tilted her head slightly, just enough to lower her voice.

You heard me.

Then she turned, coat fluttering behind her like a curtain closing. She didn't wait for confirmation. She didn't look back. The door shut on its own, glass rattling in the frame.

Outside, her car idled like it was breathing. She watched the clock on the dash. Lit another cigarette. Adjusted the rearview mirror just enough to see the front of the café in its reflection.

And there she was. Exactly ten minutes later. No coat. Hair damp. Standing outside like she'd forgotten how to move.

She stepped out of the car and closed the door behind her, slow and deliberate. The rain had eased to a mist, making the street lamp halos bleed into each other. She approached with the cigarette still burning between her fingers, smoke trailing behind her like a veil.

The girl stood perfectly still. Her hands were clenched in her sleeves. Her chest was rising too fast.

The woman didn't speak right away. She just looked at her. Long enough for the silence to thicken, long enough to let the air turn heavy.

Then she stepped in closer.

She brushed a strand of hair from the girl's face, tucked it behind her ear with slow fingers. Her skin was warm. Her nails immaculate.

You always this nervous?

She didn't wait for an answer. She already knew.

One hand came up to trace the edge of her jaw, then tilt her chin up until those wide eyes finally looked back. She exhaled slow, the scent of tobacco and perfume coiling between them.

Look at you.

She slid her thumb over the girl's bottom lip, just once, soft but possessive. The kind of touch that left an imprint even after it was gone.

You know what I'm going to ask.

There was no nod this time. Just stillness. Tension drawn tight across both of them like a string about to snap.

Use your voice.

A whisper followed. Barely audible. But it counted.

Yes.

The woman smiled. Small. Sharp.

Good girl.

She opened the passenger door without breaking eye contact. The car's interior glowed dimly, clean and cold.

Get in. Be quiet.

And the girl moved.