CAGED

CHAPTER 3 - NO STRINGS, JUST COFFEE

There was a slight accent to his voice—low and rough, with a subtle edge. Rhea couldn't quite place it. British? American? It was hard to tell, but it didn't sound like the accent of someone you'd hear on the street every day. There was a polish to it, something that hinted at a different world, one that didn't belong to her.

"Name?" she asked, her fingers hovering over the register without lifting her gaze from the screen.

"Rey," he replied simply.

The simplicity of his answer made her pause for just a moment longer than usual. There was something about the way he said it—something in the cadence of his voice—that made it seem like more was left unsaid. It wasn't just the name. It was the way he held himself, the way his presence filled the space.

"Alright, Rey. One black coffee, coming right up," Rhea said, trying to push aside the quiet curiosity that had started to creep into her mind.

She turned toward the espresso machine, her fingers working with practiced ease. The sound of the machine hissing, the gentle hum of the steam, became her focus. It was a rhythm she could lose herself in, a task that allowed her to disappear for a moment, to forget about everything else. The past. The ghosts. All of it faded into the background as she moved through the motions.

As she worked, she caught a glimpse of him again. Rey sat in a corner of the café, his laptop already open and his attention fully absorbed in whatever was on the screen. His fingers moved quickly over the keys, a blur of motion. He didn't glance up at her, or at anyone. His focus was complete, almost unnerving in its intensity. It made Rhea wonder if he was always this absorbed, if it was something about this place that commanded his full attention.

She finished his coffee and placed it on a small tray, taking a deep breath before walking over to his table. Rhea moved over to Rey's table, carefully placing the coffee in front of him, along with the bill on the side. She wasn't expecting anything special—just the usual routine. She went back to the counter, keeping busy as the café quieted down.

"Your coffee," she said simply, her voice soft, almost as an afterthought.

He looked up then, his eyes meeting hers with an intensity that caught her off guard. For just a moment, there was a silence between them, a brief pause in the flow of the café as their gazes locked. His eyes held hers for a second longer than was necessary before he returned his attention to his laptop.

"Thanks," he said, his voice a low murmur, before he turned back to his work.

Rhea didn't linger. She never did. She turned back toward the counter, but something about that brief moment, that glance, made her feel like the air had shifted. Like something had changed—just a little. Her pulse quickened, but she dismissed it quickly. He was just a customer. It was nothing more.

The rest of the afternoon passed in relative silence, with only a few more customers trickling in. Rey, however, remained at his table, engrossed in his work. He didn't leave like the others had. Rhea couldn't help but watch him from time to time, the quiet buzz of the café continuing around her. He typed at an incredible speed, his fingers dancing across the keys like they were made for it. She found herself wondering what kind of work he did. What kind of life did he live outside of this café? Was he just a businessman on a coffee break, or did he have a deeper purpose here, a reason for choosing this place today?

When Rey finished his coffee, he stood up, gathered his things, and left without another word. It was only when Rhea approached the table to clear it that she noticed the small change. There, beside the empty cup, was a crisp twenty-dollar bill resting casually on top of the receipt.

Rhea stopped for a moment, blinking in surprise. It was more than she'd ever received for a simple coffee. Her first instinct was to question it, but she quickly realized he was already gone.

She stared at the bill for a moment longer, feeling a quiet confusion wash over her. It wasn't the money itself that left her unsettled—it was the gesture. There was something different about it, something more sincere than just a casual tip. It felt like a quiet act of kindness, no expectations, no strings attached.

Rhea felt her heart skip a beat as she picked up the bill, tucking it into her apron without saying a word. Her mind was racing, trying to make sense of it.

Tasha, who had been busy at the other side of the counter, approached and glanced at the money. "Well, that's a first. Someone's clearly got deep pockets," she remarked with a smirk.

Rhea didn't respond. She couldn't. Something about the gesture felt different. It wasn't the amount of the tip that had caught her off guard. It was the simplicity of it. The fact that someone had been kind without any expectations. No strings attached. Just a small, unspoken act of generosity.

That night, when Rhea sat on the edge of her bed, she unfolded the twenty-dollar bill and stared at it in the quiet darkness. It wasn't the money that kept her awake, though. It was the memory of Rey's gaze—the way his eyes had seemed to see right through her, into the parts of herself she kept hidden from the world. The parts she was never ready to share.

For just a moment, she allowed herself to wonder. What would it be like to stop hiding? To let someone in?

But she quickly pushed the thought away.

There is no way she'd let anyone in her life ever again, NEVER.