Welcome to

A few days after her triumphant—if petty—revenge at The Foxglove, Hasti found herself standing in line at her favorite coffee shop, The Brewed Awakening. The scent of roasted beans and cinnamon hung in the air, mingling with the low hum of morning chatter. She scrolled absently through her phone, reviewing emails, when a voice behind her made her glance up.

“You’re either very brave or very tired to be drinking that.”

Hasti blinked. The man behind her—tall, dark-eyed, with a sharp jawline and just the right amount of stubble—nodded toward her usual order: a triple-shot espresso with a splash of cream. His grin was playful, but not smug.

She arched a brow. “Or maybe I just like coffee that can double as jet fuel.”

He laughed, a warm, rich sound. “Fair warning: if you start vibrating from caffeine overload, I’m not carrying you out of here.”

Despite herself, she smirked. “Noted. I’ll try not to disrupt brunch.”

“Adam,” he said, extending his hand.

She hesitated. Not this again. The flirty opener, the too-easy charm—she’d seen this script before. But there was something different in the way he held her gaze. No lingering glances past her, no awkward shifts when he registered her dark features. Just… eye contact. Interest.

Against her better judgment, she took his hand. “Hasti.”

His grip was warm, firm, but not showy. “So, Hasti who likes her coffee lethal, what do you do when you’re not mainlining caffeine?”

She could have given a vague answer. Could have shut it down. But—“Marketing. And occasionally plotting world domination over martinis.”

Adam’s eyes lit up. “Finally, someone with priorities.”

The banter flowed effortlessly. By the time they reached the counter, she’d learned he was a freelance photographer (hence the unholy morning hours), hated cilantro with a passion, and had a cat named after a 90s cartoon character.

She expected the moment to die when they collected their orders. Instead, Adam lingered. “I know you’ve got a world-domination meeting to get to, but—” He pulled out his phone and hesitated, a rarity in men who usually swaggered through rejection. —would it be weird if I asked for your number? No pressure.”

Hasti studied him. The easy confidence, the lack of that look—like he was doing her a favor by talking to her. She should have said no. But then she remembered Ethan crumpling in agony and figured karma might owe her …