CAFÉ DEL ESPEJO

10pm the next day, Rachel arrived early. She'd barely slept all week. Now, sitting in the ornate café near Recoletos station, she felt the weight of exhaustion pressing down on her shoulders. Café del Espejo was beautiful but it was where Rachel would never normally enter. The kind of place where a single coffee cost more than her lunch budget for the week. She knew Joseph was going to cover the bills so she has little or no issues to worry about.. She ordered a cortado and sat at a corner table, her hands wrapped around the small cup for warmth she didn't need. Her phone sat face-up on the table. It was already 10:32 pm He was late or maybe he wasn't coming at all. Maybe he'd sobered up and realized that giving out a huge sum of money to a stranger was insane, and decided to ghost her. Rachel wouldn't blame him. She'd blame herself for hoping for something unrealistic. At 10:40, the café door opened again. This time, Rachel was already preparing to leave for her night shift at Malasana. She was already late. 

 Joseph walked in, and the atmosphere shifted. He wore a crisp white shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows, dark trousers, and leather shoes that probably cost more than her rent. His hair was slightly damp, like he'd just showered. He scanned the room with that same assessing gaze she remembered from the bar. When his eyes found hers, something in his expression softened. He walked over, sliding into the chair across from her without a word.

"You came," Rachel said quietly.

"You asked me to," Joseph replied, as if it were that simple.

A waiter appeared almost immediately, hovering at Joseph's elbow.

"Café solo," Joseph said without looking at the menu. Black coffee.

The waiter nodded and disappeared.

There was a brief silence between them. Rachel broke the silenyfirst.

"I need to be clear about something," she said, her voice steady despite the tremor in her hands. "I'm not here because I want your money. I'm here because my brother is dying, and I'm out of options."

Joseph's gaze didn't waver.

"I know."

"And I'm not... I won't..." She struggled to find the words. "This isn't transactional. I'm not selling myself. I just…"

"Rachel," Joseph interrupted. "I know. It is a win-win situation for us here. You do what I ask you to do and I will return the favour.”

She exhaled, some of the tension leaving her shoulders.

The waiter returned with Joseph's coffee. He took a sip, then set the cup down carefully.

"Tell me what you need," he said.

Rachel swallowed.

"Twenty thousand euros.” Rachael paused. “I don't know if it is possible for me to get it by tomorrow evening. That's the deposit for my brother's surgery. The rest can be paid in installments after the operation, but without the deposit, they won't schedule it. And he doesn't have time."

Joseph nodded slowly, processing.

"How much is the total cost?"

"Forty thousand."

"And after the surgery? Recovery, medication, follow-up care?"

Rachel blinked, surprised he was asking.

"I... I don't know exactly. Maybe another ten or fifteen thousand over the next year."

Joseph pulled out his phone, typed something, then set it face-down on the table.

"I'll transfer fifty thousand euros to your account today," he said calmly. "That should cover the surgery and the recovery."

Rachel's breath caught.

"That's... that's too much.”

Rachel did not realize what just dropped from her mouth. She needed the money but the offer seemed dubious.

“I understand that you are trying to help but…” Rachel could not complete the statement.

"You need more than you think," Joseph said. "Medical costs add up. Unexpected complications happen. I'd rather you have a buffer than come up short later."

Rachel stared at him, her mind reeling.

"Why?" she whispered. "Why would you do this?"

Joseph was quiet for a moment, his fingers tracing the edge of his coffee cup.

"My grandmother raised me," he said finally. "When I was eight, I got sick… I mean, really sick. Pneumonia that turned into something worse. My parents were... absent and they were too busy with work, with appearances, with everything except me."

He paused, his jaw tightening slightly.

"My abuela took care of me. She sat by my bed every night. She didn't think twice. So, I understand this situation.”

Rachel's chest tightened.

"I got better," Joseph continued. "But I never forgot what it felt like to be helpless. To need someone and not know if they'd come through."

He looked up, meeting her eyes.

"Your brother has you. That's more than most people get but you shouldn't have to choose between saving him and destroying your life."

Rachel felt tears prickling at the corners of her eyes. She blinked them back furiously.

"I don't know how to repay you," she said, her voice thick.

"Come to my grandmother's birthday dinner," Joseph said simply. "That's all I'm asking."

Rachel let out a shaky breath.

"That's not equal. That's not even close to what you have done for me."

"It is to me," Joseph interrupted quietly.

Their eyes held for a long moment.

Finally, Rachel nodded.

"Okay," she whispered. "Okay."

Joseph pulled his phone back out, opened his banking app, and looked at her expectantly.

"Your account number?"

Rachel fumbled for her phone, found her banking details, and read them out slowly.

Joseph typed, his fingers moving quickly across the screen. Then he hit confirm.

"Done," he said.

Rachel's phone buzzed a few seconds later.

She looked down at the notification, and her heart stopped.

TRANSFER RECEIVED: €50,000.00

Her hands started shaking.

"I..." She couldn't form words. "I can't... this is..."

"It's done," Joseph said firmly. "Call the hospital and schedule the surgery."

Rachel nodded numbly, still staring at her phone screen like it was a sort of magic or dream.

She looked up at him, tears finally spilling over.

"Thank you," she choked out. "Thank you so much. I don't... I don't even know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything," Joseph replied softly.

Rachel wiped her eyes quickly, embarrassed by the tears but unable to stop them.

"I'll pay you back," she said fiercely. "I don't know how long it'll take, but I will. Every cent."

Joseph tilted his head slightly, something unreadable in his expression.

"If that's important to you, then okay," he said. "But there's no rush and no interest."

Rachel let out a breath that was half laugh, half sob.

"You're funny" she said.

"Maybe," Joseph replied, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, the gravity of what had just happened settled between them.

Finally, Joseph spoke again.

"The dinner is Saturday night. A week from now. My grandmother's estate is outside the city. I can send a car for you."

Rachel nodded, her mind still spinning.

"What... what should I wear? What do I say? What if..?"

"Just be yourself," Joseph said. "That's all she'll care about."

"But I don't know anything about your family, your life, how we supposedly met and every other things"

"We'll figure it out," Joseph said calmly. "We have a week."

Rachel bit her lip, anxiety creeping in.

"What if she asks how long we've been together?"

"A few months," Joseph said without hesitation, like he'd already thought it through. 

"That's... vague enough to work," Rachel admitted.

"Exactly."

She hesitated, then asked the question that had been nagging at her since the bar.

"Why do you need me to come? Why not just... hire someone? An actress, a professional. Someone who'd be better at this."

Joseph's expression darkened slightly.

"I tried that," he said quietly. "My grandmother saw through it immediately. She's... sharp. She knows when people are lying."

He paused, his fingers tightening around his coffee cup.

"She needs to believe I'm happy. That I've found someone real and someone who cares."

"But I'm not real," Rachel said gently. "This isn't real."

Joseph met her gaze, something vulnerable flickering in his eyes.

"It's more real than anything I've tried before," he said.

Rachel didn't know how to respond to that.

They talked for another hour.

Joseph asked about Benjamín. Rachel found herself relaxing as she talked about her brother and about the way he always tried to make her laugh even when he was in pain.Joseph listened with an intensity that made her feel seen in a way she hadn't felt in years. In turn, Rachel asked about his grandmother. Joseph's face softened when he talked about her and how she used to sneak him churros when his parents enforced strict diets, about how she taught him to cook even though his father thought it was beneath him, about how she was the only person who never made him feel broken because of his voice.

"She sounds wonderful," Rachel said softly.

"She is," Joseph replied. "She's the only family I have that matters."

A few minutes later, Joseph glanced at his watch.

"I have to go," he said reluctantly.

Rachel nodded, standing up.

"Thank you," she said again. "For everything."

Joseph stood as well, pulling out his wallet.

"I've got this," Rachel said quickly, reaching for her purse.

Joseph gave her a look that was almost amused.

"Rachel."

"Fine," she conceded, letting him pay.

They walked out of the café together, the late morning sun warming the cobblestone street.

"I'll text you details about Saturday," Joseph said. "And if you need anything before then, call me."

"I will," Rachel promised.

They stood there for a moment, an awkward pause hanging between them. Finally, Joseph extended his hand.

"See you Saturday," Joseph said quietly.

"Saturday," Rachel stylishly..

He held her hand for a second longer than necessary, then let go and turned, walking toward a sleek black car parked at the curb.