Chapter 2 · Cold Terms of Love

As the cab slowly pulled away, Emilia glanced back at the gate of the complex.

The falling snow blurred her vision, but she could make out Kasen's figure standing there in his dark gray loungewear, out in the snow, as if he was looking her way.

Emilia looked away and said to the driver, "Could you drive a bit faster?"

What Emilia didn't see was Kasen standing out in the snow for so long that his shoulders were dusted with white. He kept calling her over and over, but all he got was that same robotic message. "The number you dialed is unavailable."

Kasen thought, 'Emilia must really be hurting.'

But he wasn't too concerned. Kasen told himself, 'Emilia's always been easygoing and soft-hearted. Give her a few days to cool off, and I'll patch things up. With her personality, she won't cause any trouble.

'Maybe her leaving is for the best. I know I've wronged her, but you can't force feelings. Now that Sasha's back, I realize I've never truly gotten over her. Emilia's great, but she's just not Sasha.'

What Kasen didn't realize was that, as he turned to head back inside, Emilia's cab stopped at an intersection. She rolled down the window and looked out at the giant screen across the street, where ads were playing.

One of the ads was for a jewelry brand, featuring a man in a perfectly tailored black suit. His features were sharp and cold, with an air that kept people at a distance.

But in the last few seconds, he suddenly smiled at the camera, and that smile was like winter thawing into spring, bringing everything back to life.

As Emilia saw that smile, tears suddenly started streaming down her face.

The man in the ad was Jonathan Thomas, Sasha's brother.

He was the secret Emilia had hidden away in her heart for seven years.

Seven years ago, Emilia was nineteen and working part-time at a café near her college.

It was pouring rain that day, and the place was nearly empty. Emilia was behind the counter cleaning cups when the door swung open and in came a man.

He was drenched, rain dripping from his hair, but he didn't seem bothered at all. He went straight to a window seat, popped open his laptop, and got right to work.

Emilia grabbed a dry towel and walked over, setting it down on his table. "Here, sir, dry yourself off. You don't want to catch a cold."

He glanced up at her.

That was the first time Emilia saw Jonathan. His eyes were so deep, like he had the whole universe in them. He just quietly said, "Thanks," and then went right back to his laptop.

That look stuck with Emilia.

Later, Emilia found out that Jonathan was a regular at the café. He always showed up right at three in the afternoon, ordered an Americano, and stayed until six.

He barely spoke, always glued to his laptop, and when he did take a call, his voice was low and controlled.

Emilia gradually figured out his preferences—Americano, no sugar, no milk; absolutely no interruptions between three and six; he hated anything too sweet, but once in a while, he'd have a slice of plain cheesecake.

They didn't talk much, but Emilia remembered every single conversation they ever had.

One time, Emilia was bringing over his coffee when she tripped, and the coffee spilled all over his papers. She panicked, apologizing over and over as she scrambled for tissues to clean up the mess.

But Jonathan didn't even flinch. He just calmly took the papers away and said, "No worries, I have backups on my computer."

Then, seeing how flustered she was, he suddenly cracked a smile and said, "Relax, I'm not going to bite."

That was the first time Emilia had ever seen him smile.

Her heart was pounding like crazy, her cheeks so hot she could fry an egg on them. She stammered, "I-I'll make you another one," and then dashed back behind the counter.

She remade that coffee three times before she finally got it right, and her hands were still shaking when she brought it over. Jonathan looked at her, took a sip, and said, "This one's better than the last."

Emilia had no idea what he meant by "better than last". She thought, 'Is he talking about the one she spilled, or every coffee she'd ever made for him?'

Either way, that little bit of praise kept her smiling for a whole week.

After that, Jonathan stopped coming in at three sharp. Sometimes he'd show up in the morning, other times in the evening.

Once in a while, he'd say something to Emilia—like, "Did you change the coffee beans today?" or "What happened to your hand?" when he spotted a band-aid on her finger, or "It's raining outside. Did you bring an umbrella?"

Emilia figured those words were probably nothing special, but she kept replaying them in her head, over and over, like a starving person savoring scraps.

She liked Jonathan.

She liked him so much, treading carefully around her feelings, as if one wrong move would shatter everything.

But she never dared to say a word.

Chapter 2

As the cab slowly pulled away, Emilia glanced back at the gate of the complex.

The falling snow blurred her vision, but she could make out Kasen's figure standing there in his dark gray loungewear, out in the snow, as if he was looking her way.

Emilia looked away and said to the driver, "Could you drive a bit faster?"

Kasen thought, 'Emilia must really be hurting.'

One of the ads was for a jewelry brand, featuring a man in a perfectly tailored black suit. His features were sharp and cold, with an air that kept people at a distance.

But in the last few seconds, he suddenly smiled at the camera, and that smile was like winter thawing into spring, bringing everything back to life.

As Emilia saw that smile, tears suddenly started streaming down her face.

The man in the ad was Jonathan Thomas, Sasha's brother.

He was the secret Emilia had hidden away in her heart for seven years.

Seven years ago, Emilia was nineteen and working part-time at a café near her college.

It was pouring rain that day, and the place was nearly empty. Emilia was behind the counter cleaning cups when the door swung open and in came a man.

He was drenched, rain dripping from his hair, but he didn't seem bothered at all. He went straight to a window seat, popped open his laptop, and got right to work.

Emilia grabbed a dry towel and walked over, setting it down on his table. "Here, sir, dry yourself off. You don't want to catch a cold."

He glanced up at her.

That was the first time Emilia saw Jonathan. His eyes were so deep, like he had the whole universe in them. He just quietly said, "Thanks," and then went right back to his laptop.

That look stuck with Emilia.

Later, Emilia found out that Jonathan was a regular at the café. He always showed up right at three in the afternoon, ordered an Americano, and stayed until six.

He barely spoke, always glued to his laptop, and when he did take a call, his voice was low and controlled.

They didn't talk much, but Emilia remembered every single conversation they ever had.

One time, Emilia was bringing over his coffee when she tripped, and the coffee spilled all over his papers. She panicked, apologizing over and over as she scrambled for tissues to clean up the mess.

But Jonathan didn't even flinch. He just calmly took the papers away and said, "No worries, I have backups on my computer."

Then, seeing how flustered she was, he suddenly cracked a smile and said, "Relax, I'm not going to bite."

That was the first time Emilia had ever seen him smile.

Her heart was pounding like crazy, her cheeks so hot she could fry an egg on them. She stammered, "I-I'll make you another one," and then dashed back behind the counter.

Emilia had no idea what he meant by "better than last". She thought, 'Is he talking about the one she spilled, or every coffee she'd ever made for him?'

Either way, that little bit of praise kept her smiling for a whole week.

After that, Jonathan stopped coming in at three sharp. Sometimes he'd show up in the morning, other times in the evening.

Emilia figured those words were probably nothing special, but she kept replaying them in her head, over and over, like a starving person savoring scraps.

She liked Jonathan.

She liked him so much, treading carefully around her feelings, as if one wrong move would shatter everything.

But she never dared to say a word.