Stuck With A Billionaire

5 Lilliana

The festival was alive with laughter and music, kids lining up for cotton candy, and adults enjoying craft beers and local foods. My little coffee stand was doing surprisingly well, given all the other attractions. Still, even as I poured a perfect cappuccino for a customer, my mind kept drifting back to my encounter with Y/n.

Did I go too hard on her? A part of me—a part I didn't want to acknowledge—wondered if I'd let the years of built-up resentment spill over unjustly. But another part of me, the one nursing old wounds, bristled at the idea of letting her off the hook so easily. It was a whirlpool of confusion, and I was caught in the middle.

"Thank you, Lilliana! Delicious as always," Mrs. Henderson said, taking her cappuccino with a warm smile.

"You're welcome. Enjoy the festival!" I replied, forcing cheer into my voice.

Just then, a gust of wind tousled the paper lanterns strung above the stands. The sky had suddenly turned a shade darker, a portent of the storm to come. I glanced up and sighed. This day was becoming more complicated by the minute.

"That... that doesn't look good," Cassidy said, her eyes on the clouds above. The first drops of rain began to fall as soon as she finished her words.

I nodded, and as I did, my gaze involuntarily shifted to where I'd last seen Y/n. She was standing alone, maybe thirty feet away, sheltered beneath the overhang of a food truck. She was alone, standing in the crowd like a ghost. Our eyes met across the rain-tinged distance, and this time, the connection lingered. The air between us was thick with words unsaid, tensions unresolved.

I turned my attention back to the customers huddling under my stand's awning. I smiled, poured them coffee, and handed out pastries, the aromas mingling with the smell of rain-soaked earth. The festival might have been shaping up to be a washout, but life went on.

Yet even as I chatted with a group of teenagers about their favorite coffee flavors, a part of me remained tethered to Y/n. Our argument had opened up old wounds, and I wasn't sure if I wanted them to heal or fester. Was I ready to forgive, or did I want the comfort of my resentment? The rain began to come down harder, a loud hush sounding as the drops fell onto the awnings of the dozens of booths.

Just when I thought the storm had peaked, a booming clap of thunder ripped through the sky, so loud it momentarily drowned out the chatter of the festival. The wind began to gust more violently, pulling at the awning of our coffee stand and making the paper lanterns dance frantically in the air.

"Okay, this is getting serious," Ben remarked, gripping the counter to steady himself.

Jenny looked nervously at the electrical cords running along the ground, now submerged in quickly pooling rainwater. "Lily, should we start packing up?"

Cassidy, who had just finished handing a hot chocolate to a shivering customer, added, "Yeah, this doesn't look like it's letting up anytime soon. Plus, it's not safe."

I surveyed the festival grounds. Other vendors were already dismantling their stalls, their movements hurried and faces pinched with worry. Families were rushing towards their cars, and event organizers were scrambling to secure anything that could be lifted by the wind. Even the most seasoned locals looked unsettled; this was no ordinary storm.

"Alright, let's do it. Jenny, start unplugging all the electrical appliances. Cassidy, help her wrap up the cords and get them off the ground. Ben, let's start stowing away the non-essentials. We need to secure the awning before it flies away."

They all nodded, and we sprung into action. But before we could make much progress, another peal of thunder, louder and closer than the last, reverberated through the air. The wind picked up with such force that it knocked over one of our empty display racks.