Xavier's motorbike rolled through the waking streets, its engine humming low beneath the soft rise of morning wind. The sky bled faint orange at the horizon — the kind of color that promised calm before the day's noise began. Inside his helmet, slow jazz whispered through the speakers, syncing with the rhythm of his heartbeat, the city lights still flickering out one by one as dawn crept in.

He leaned slightly with every turn, taking his time, the chill air brushing his face through the visor vents. Once in a while, he sped up just to feel the rush of wind slide past his jacket before slowing down again — savoring the quiet. No chaos. No blood. No games. Just the hum of the engine and a rare moment of peace.

By the time he reached the Nexus Tower, the first rays of sunlight were slicing between the skyscrapers. He parked the bike in his reserved spot, the tires letting out a faint hiss as the engine cooled. Then, with calm steps, he entered the elevator and rode it up to Seraphina's floor.

He rang her doorbell twice, but there was no response.

With a small frown, he keyed in her access code and the lock clicked open.

The apartment greeted him with soft ambient lights and a scent that was unmistakably hers — clean, floral, faintly sweet. The air felt freshly touched, like someone had just been there. Her bedroom door stood slightly ajar. Inside, the bed was perfectly made, the sheets smooth, the pillows arranged like she'd left in a hurry but still cared to make things look right. The minimalist decor, the dim glow of the side lamp, even the faint scent of jasmine trail made the room feel almost intimate.

But she wasn't there.

Xavier's chest sank a little. He didn't need to guess what this meant. Guilt flickered through him. He wasn't sure if it was from how she always made her room before leaving or because last night was supposed to be special for them.

With a quiet exhale, he turned around and left the apartment. The elevator took him down to the 10th floor, and when the doors slid open, the familiar smell of roasted beans and baked pastries filled the air.

Through the glass partition, he saw her — Seraphina — sleeves rolled up, hair tied, setting up tables in the soft amber glow of the early lights. The faint jazz Seraphina always played when opening the restaurant early. The restaurant was half-awake, machines humming to life, chairs being arranged with precise care. She was alone, moving methodically, not once looking toward the entrance.

Xavier stood there for a while, hands in his pockets, just watching her. For all her elegance, there was something grounded about her — a quiet, stubborn grace.

And then she noticed him. Her eyes met his for a moment, cold and unreadable, before she looked away and went back to adjusting the espresso machine as if he was just another customer passing by. No greeting. No smile. Just silence.

"Morning," Xavier said as he stepped closer, voice low.

No response.

He sighed and leaned against the counter. "You're up early."

Still nothing. She kept rearranging a set of glass jars, as if he wasn't even there.

He chuckled lightly, trying to ease the air. "You gonna ignore me all day or just pretend I don't exist now?"

That made her stop. She turned slowly, eyes calm but cold. "Where were you last night?"

Xavier hesitated for half a second, then exhaled. "At the club. With Angel."

The sound of glass slamming on steel broke the quiet. Seraphina dropped what she was holding — not hard enough to break, but enough to show how pissed she was — and then turned away from him, heading to the back.

Xavier ran a hand through his hair. "Seraphina, I—look, I lost sense of time. Things just… happened. I should've—"

She stopped mid-step and looked over her shoulder, voice sharp but steady. "I'm not angry that you were fucking another girl while I was waiting for you in my apartment like some naive maiden, Xavier. You could've at least told me you weren't coming."

Her tone cracked slightly near the end, but she covered it with a bitter smile. "I sat there all night. I didn't even sleep because I didn't want you to show up and find me asleep — because you said it was our night. And I believed that. How stupid of me."

The words hit harder than he expected. Xavier stood there quietly, guilt twisting in his gut. There wasn't anything he could say that would fix that — no smooth line, no apology. He'd really fucked this one up.

She turned around, checking the stock, her hands trembling just slightly. "You should go," she muttered. "I've got work to do."

Xavier didn't move for a long moment. He just stood there, watching her try to act composed, and that quiet realization sank deeper — that this was the price of having too much, of living the way he did. One night of pleasure had left someone else waiting, disappointed, and hurt.

He wanted to apologize again, but the words felt useless. Empty. So he just stood there, watching her turn away.

She brushed past him, her shoulder grazing his arm. "Don't say sorry," she said coldly. "Just learn not to make promises you can't keep."

Seraphina brushed past him once again, but this time, Xavier caught her wrist before she could walk off. She froze mid-step, trying to pull free, but he tightened his grip just enough to make her stop without hurting her.

"Let go," she said quietly.

He didn't. "Seraphina."

Her tone sharpened. "Xavier, I said—"

Before she could finish, he stepped closer, eyes steady on hers — the kind of look that didn't demand, but didn't leave room for argument either. "Sit down."

She blinked, caught off guard by how serious he sounded.

"I'm not asking you to forgive me," he said. "And I'm not explaining shit right now. Just… sit down."

She hesitated, but the calm in his voice — the weight behind it — made her give in. He guided her toward one of the tables near the front, pulled a chair out, and waited until she sat. Her posture was tense, arms crossed, eyes narrowed, but she didn't say a word.

Xavier exhaled and loosened his hold, stepping back. "I'll make breakfast," he said, glancing toward the kitchen. "And we're eating together. This isn't some apology or emotional stunt, so don't stop me."

Seraphina frowned. "You can't just—"

He cut her off gently, already walking away. "I can, and I will. You've been up all night. You look exhausted. Just let me handle this."

And without waiting for her permission, he slipped behind the counter and headed into the kitchen. The place smelled faintly of coffee and spice, the morning light cutting across the metallic counters. Xavier rolled up his sleeves and scanned the area — ingredients stacked neatly, utensils in their place, the faint hum of the induction plates warming up.

He wasn't the best cook, but he'd watched Seraphina enough times to know how she liked things done.

"It's been a while since I last cooked something…." he muttered with a sigh. "Let's hope I don't fuck this up, otherwise she will get more pissed."

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