The café was too quiet for 9:47 at night.
Grace noticed that first – not him.
No music. No television. Just the low hum of the espresso machine and the sound of rain tapping against the windows like it was asking permission to come in.
"Same as usual?" the barista asked her.
Grace nodded. "Iced. No syrup."
She stepped aside, fingers curling loosely around her phone, and that was when she felt it.
Not eyes on her.
Presence.
She looked up.
He was standing two steps behind her in line, hands in the pockets of a dark coat, posture relaxed in a way that felt practiced. Black hair, slightly damp, like he'd come in straight from the rain. His face was... gentle. Soft lines. Warm eyes.
He smiled when he noticed her staring.
"Sorry," he said immediately. "Was I too close?"
His voice was calm. Polite. Almost careful.
Grace blinked once. "No."
He took a small step back anyway.
That should've been reassuring. Instead, it unsettled her.
Most people didn't notice boundaries unless you enforced them.
She turned back toward the counter, pulse steady but alert.
Rule one: Don't trust people who make you feel safe too quickly.
The barista slid her drink across the counter. "Grace."
She reached for it – and hesitated when another hand appeared at the same time.
"Oh – sorry," the man said again, pulling back instantly. "Didn't realize they'd call use so close together."
Grace glanced at the cups. Different names.
"No problem," she said, lifting hers.
Their fingers hadn't touched. He'd made sure of it.
She moved toward the empty table by the window. Habit, not preference. It let her see the street, the reflections of passing headlights smeared across wet pavement.
She'd barely sat down when a voice spoke again.
"Excuse me."
She looked up.
The man stood a few feet away, holding his up, not invading her space.
"All the other tables are... taken," he said, gesturing vaguely behind him. "Would you mind if I sat here?"
Grace scanned the café. He wasn't lying.
She shrugged. "It's not my table."
"Thank you."
He sat across from her, not beside. Another small thing. Another note filed away.
They drank in silence.
Grace scrolled through her phone without really seeing anything. She could feel him – not staring, not fidgeting. Just... there.
After a while, he spoke.
"It's raining harder," he said.
Grace glanced outside. "Yeah."
Another pause.
"I'm San," he added, like an afterthought. "Choi San."
She hesitated. Names mattered.
"Grace."
YOU ARE READING
If I Don't Let Go (ATEEZ SAN)
FanfictionGrace was trained to disappear. San was trained to endure. When their pasts collide under Havoc's watchful eye, love becomes both a weakness and a weapon.
