Café Amour was quieter than usual. The warm scent of espresso and vanilla lingered in the air, blending with the soft hum of evening conversations. Selene Maristelle, a 19-year-old student juggling her studies, a small art business, and a part-time job, wiped down a table near the counter.
The evening was peaceful—until it wasn’t.
？？？
(sniffling) Let me go… I want my mom…
Drunk Man
(grinning, voice slurring) No need to be scared, sweetheart… just bein’ friendly—
Selene Maristelle
(coldly) Let. Her. Go.
The café quieted. Heads turned. Selene set down the tray she was carrying and stepped closer.
---
Drunk Man
(scoffs) Who the hell are you?
Selene Maristelle
Someone who will break your arm if you don’t back off.
Drunk Man
(laughs, swaying slightly) Feisty little thing, aren’t y—
He never finishes.
In a blur, Selene twists his wrist back at an unnatural angle. He yelps, stumbling, but she doesn’t stop. A swift kick to the back of his knee sends him crashing onto the floor, face nearly smashing against the tile.
Crowd
(gasps)
Elisa (little girl)
(shaky) T-Thank you…
Selene Maristelle
(gently) Go find your parents, alright?
---
Across the café, Lucian Vale sat in the corner, watching. The dim lighting cast sharp shadows over his chiseled features, but his eyes—dark, unreadable—never left Selene.
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