Chapter 3 – Lines You Don’t Cross

Kryzelle tried not to notice him.

That was her first mistake.

Zander Castillo sat by the window, one long leg crossed over the other, his phone resting forgotten on the table as he watched the café like he owned the place. Or perhaps, like he was waiting for something—or someone.

Every time Kryzelle lifted her eyes, she found him already looking at her.

Stop it, she told herself. You’re working.

But it was hard to focus when awareness clung to her skin like static electricity. She could feel him there, even without looking—his presence steady, unhurried, as if he had nowhere else he needed to be.

Mae leaned closer, her voice low. “You know he’s been staring at you for five minutes straight, right?”

Kryzelle nearly fumbled a cup. “He has not.”

Mae peeked over her shoulder. “Correction. Six.”

Heat crept up Kryzelle’s neck. “Please stop counting.”

She risked a glance.

Bad idea.

Zander’s gaze met hers instantly, like he had been waiting for that exact moment. Instead of looking away, he tilted his head slightly, lips curving in a slow, knowing smile.

Her heart stuttered.

She turned back to the espresso machine far too quickly.

Why is he doing this? she wondered. And why am I letting it affect me?

The café grew quieter as the afternoon crowd thinned. Soft music hummed in the background, sunlight spilling across wooden tables. It was the kind of calm Kryzelle usually loved—peaceful, grounding.

Today, it felt charged.

“Excuse me.”

His voice came from behind the counter.

Kryzelle jumped.

“Yes—hi,” she said, turning too fast. “Did you need something?”

Zander stood closer than she expected, resting his elbows lightly on the counter. “I was wondering,” he said casually, “if you ever take breaks.”

She frowned. “Of course I do.”

“When?” he asked. “I’ve been here almost an hour. You haven’t stopped moving.”

She opened her mouth to argue, then paused.

He was right.

“I like staying busy,” she said instead.

He studied her for a moment, eyes thoughtful. “That can be dangerous.”

“How so?”

“People forget how to rest,” he said. “They forget how to breathe.”

Something about his tone made her chest tighten.

“That sounds like experience talking,” she replied.

His jaw tensed—just slightly. “Maybe.”

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward. It was heavy. Loaded.

Mae suddenly appeared between them like a referee. “Break time, Kryzelle,” she announced brightly. “Five minutes. Doctor’s orders.”

“I didn’t—”

Mae nudged her. Hard. “Go.”

Zander’s eyebrow lifted. “Looks like fate is on my side.”

Kryzelle shot Mae a look that promised consequences, then sighed. “Fine. Five minutes.”

She removed her apron, suddenly very aware of how close he was as they walked toward the small patio area outside the café.

The air outside was warmer, the city noise distant but present. Kryzelle leaned against the railing, crossing her arms more for balance than comfort.

Zander stood beside her, close enough that she could sense the heat of him without touching.

“This is where you escape?” he asked.

“Sometimes,” she replied. “When things get loud.”

He nodded. “I understand that.”

She glanced at him. “You don’t seem like someone who gets overwhelmed easily.”

He smiled faintly. “Appearances are misleading.”

There it was again—that hint of something beneath the charm.

“So,” she said lightly, trying to shift the mood, “are you always this… mysterious?”

“Only when someone asks the right questions.”

“And am I asking the wrong ones?”

He turned toward her then, fully, his gaze locking onto hers. “You’re asking the interesting ones.”

Her breath caught.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The space between them felt thinner, charged with unspoken curiosity. She became acutely aware of how close his hand was to hers, how easy it would be to move just an inch closer.

Don’t, she warned herself.

“You shouldn’t look at me like that,” she said quietly.

“Like what?”

“Like you’re trying to figure me out.”

He smiled slowly. “What if I already am?”

Her heart skipped. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“I know you care about what you do,” he said. “I know you hide nerves behind sarcasm. And I know you pretend you’re unaffected when you very clearly are.”

She stared at him. “That’s… unfair.”

“Truth usually is.”

Before she could respond, Mae’s voice cut through the air.

“Kryzelle!”

She turned sharply. “What?”

“There’s a man inside asking for you.”

Zander’s expression shifted. Just a flicker—but Kryzelle noticed.

“What man?” she asked.

Mae hesitated. “He said he knows you. Very well.”

A strange unease settled in her stomach.

“I’ll be right there,” Kryzelle said, already moving.

As she walked back inside, she felt Zander’s gaze on her again—sharper this time, more alert.

The moment she stepped behind the counter, she saw him.

The man standing near the register wasn’t a customer.

He was someone from her past.

And the look on his face told her one thing with chilling certainty—

This wasn’t a coincidence.

Kryzelle’s breath caught.

Zander straightened from his seat, eyes narrowing as he took in the scene.

And for the first time since he walked into the café…

He didn’t smile.