So you came. Not because you believe in fairy tales anymore, but because even heartbreak gets tiring after a while.
You glance at the time once. Then twice. Then you force yourself to stop checking because you refuse to feel like a woman sitting around waiting to be chosen.
The café hums with quiet conversation and the soft tapping of laptop keys. Couples lean close to each other. Strangers pretend they are not eavesdropping. A barista steams milk with the precision of a conductor leading a small orchestra.
You keep your face neutral and your posture relaxed, but your chest tightens anyway.
You tell yourself the universe has a habit of embarrassing you in public, and if it happens again tonight, you will survive it.
Still, the chair across from you remains empty.
Seven o’clock passes. Then seven-ten. Your phone stays silent. The old voice in your head begins to whisper the familiar accusations.
Maybe you misunderstood the time. Maybe you are not worth the effort. Maybe you are the joke again.
You breathe in slowly, remembering what your therapist always says. Do not build a tragedy out of ten minutes. Not yet.
Then you hear it.
A small voice, confident and completely unexpected.
“Excuse me. Are you Sofía?”
You lift your eyes with a polite smile already forming, expecting to see a tall man in a nice jacket standing there.
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