CoryThe small cafe I had chosen was tucked into a quiet corner of the city. Not one of the polished, glittery establishments where business tycoons flaunted their wealth, but a moderate place, with worn brick walls, the faint aroma of roasted beans and a shelf filled with books for patrons to borrow.I ordered a cup of espresso, then chose a seat by the window. Outside, the city moved in its usual rush, but, in here, the world slowed. The hush of conversations, the clink of cups, the hiss of steaming milk. It was almost comforting. I wrapped my hands around the warm porcelain cup, inhaling the rich scent. The bell above the door gave a melodious chime, cutting through the low hum of the espresso machine. I didn’t look up immediately, partly because I was terrified to face Aliyah, if she was indeed the one who had stepped in.I was also distracted by the hairline crack in the tabletop. Then came the sound of footsteps, not the frantic click of someone in a hurr
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