Monday arrived with grey skies and the particular kind of dread that came with carrying something heavy into a new week. Irene woke up at 6am, brushed her teeth, took her bath, took some tea and pancakes and left for work.
She got to work. Tied her apron. Forced her face into its working expression. Got through the morning on autopilot. Orders, coffee, wipe down, repeat.
Her co-worker Eva shot her a look by midmorning.
"You alright?" Eva asked quietly while they restocked the counter.
"I'm fine," Irene said dryly.
Eva didn't look convinced but didn't push it.
By early afternoon the café had settled into its quieter stretch. Irene was clearing table four when she heard the door open behind her.
She didn't look back.
But she felt it.
That shift in the air. That particular kind of stillness that followed him in.
She straightened slowly and turned around.
Chris was already looking at her.
Not with his usual calm amusement. With something more measured. More careful.
He walked straight to table eight without a word. Sat down.
Irene took a breath and walked over.
"The usual?" she asked. Keeping her voice even. Professional. Calm.
"Yes please," he said quietly. Then-- "You didn't reply to my texts."
"I was busy." She replied.
"You didn't answer my call." He added.
"I was-"
"Irene." His voice was low. Not angry. Just direct. "What's going on?"
She set her notepad against her chest.
Looked away briefly then sighed.
The café was quiet enough. Tom was in the back. Eva was at the far end of the counter.
"It's nothing," she said. "Just a rough day."
"Yesterday was a rough day too apparently."
She didn't answer.
He leaned forward slightly, elbows on the table, voice dropping lower. "Talk to me."
Something about the way he said it; not demanding, not impatient, just steady and open-- made the wall she'd been reinforcing since Sunday morning develop a small crack.
She pulled out the chair across from him.
Sat down.
Looked at her hands for a moment.
"My rent is due," she said quietly. "Eight hundred pounds. Has compounded for 2 months. By the end of the week." A pause. "I'm short."
Silence.
She looked up.
He was watching her with an expression she couldn't quite read.
"How short?" he asked.
"Enough to stress about it," she said simply.
He nodded slowly. Then why didn't you tell me?"
She blinked. "What?"
"Yesterday. When you went quiet. When you didn't reply." His eyes stayed on hers. "Why didn't you just tell me?"
"Because it's not your problem Chris--"
"You disappeared for an entire day and went cold on me and I'm sitting here thinking I did something wrong." He said it plainly. No drama. Just honest. "You should have told me Irene."
She looked at him.
Felt that small crack in the wall get a little wider. More wider in fact.
"I don't-" She stopped. Started again. "I'm not used to telling people things."
"I know," he said quietly. "But I'm not people."
The café was very quiet around them.
Irene looked down at the table.
She'd grown up sorting things herself. No one to call. No safety net. Asking for help had never been an option- it had never even felt like one. And even now, with June offering, with Chris sitting right in front of her-, every instinct she had said handle it alone. Don't be a burden. Figure it out.
"I always sort myself out," she said quietly. Almost to herself.
"I know you do," he said. "But you don't have to. Not anymore."
She looked up at him.
He reached across the table and covered her hand with his briefly. Just for a moment. Warm and steady.
"Let me help," he said simply.
"Chris-- "
"Not a discussion." The corner of his mouth lifted slightly. "Consider it an advance on all the average coffee I've been drinking."
She laughed despite everything.
Small and tired but real.
"Ugh I hate you," she muttered.
"No you don't." He replied.
She looked at him for a long moment.
This man who showed up when she went quiet instead of walking away. Who didn't make her feel small for struggling. Who sat across from her in a café and made " let me help" sound like the most natural thing in the world.
"Thank you," she said quietly.
He just nodded. Like it was already handled.
Like she already knew he meant it.
Chris left thirty minutes later.
And somehow Irene felt lighter after he walked out. Her mood seemed to just light up.
She finished her shift. Taking orders, serving coffee, wiping up tables.
Evening came. She closed from work and went back home.
She was barely through her front door that evening when her phone rang.
It was June.
"Talk to me," June said the moment she picked up. No dramatics this time. Just that quiet version of her that only came out when it mattered. "How are you actually doing?"
Irene dropped her bag on the chair. Kicked off her shoes.
"Better," she admitted. "Chris came to the café."
*A beat.*
"And?" June added.
"And he figured it out. That something was wrong." She sat on the edge of the couch. "I told him about the rent."
June went quiet for a moment.
"How did he take it?"
"He wasn't weird about it." Irene said calmly. "He just… handled it. Like it wasn't a big deal."
"Irene." June's voice was careful. "That man came to your workplace because you went quiet for one day."
"I know."
"He sat down and made you talk to him."
"I know June"
"That is not normal behaviour. That is someone who is already--" She stopped herself. "Just. Don't push him away okay? Not this time."
Irene was quiet for a moment. Then she gazed at the wall across from her
Irene was quiet for a moment. Then-- "June."
"Yes?" June answered.
"You know why I push people away."
*A short pause.*
"Dave?" June asked carefully.
"Dave. And after Dave--" Irene exhaled slowly. "You remember when I mentioned Ryan?"
"The guy you stopped talking to out of nowhere? Yeah." June replied.
"I didn't tell you everything about that." Irene said softly.
"After everything with Dave, I was so messed up. So hurt. I just wanted to feel normal again. Move on. Heal. So when Ryan came along and we started talking I thought maybe he could help with that somehow.
*She paused.* Then-- "I know that sounds stupid." Irene added.
"It doesn't," June said quietly. "Go on."
"He got really sexual early. Like really early. We'd barely been talking two weeks and he was already sending naughty texts."
*Irene sighed*. "Then he invited me to his apartment. I knew I probably shouldn't have gone but I thought nothing bad of it.
"Irene--..." June said shortly.
"I went anyway. He gave me a drink. Put on some film that was naughty--"
*Irene stopped.* Then added "You know the type. And then he tried to touch me June. We weren't even officially anything. Just talking. And he just assumed that was okay."
June was very quiet on the other end.
"I snapped and I hurriedly left his apartment," Irene continued. "In the Uber on my way home, he sent me texts saying he's sorry and that it was a mistake but I ignored him. I blocked him and I never spoke to him again. I let whatever we had die. And after that I just thought-- what's the point? If that's what these men are after then I'd rather just be alone."
"Irene," June said softly. "I'm so sorry. You should have told me."
"I know. I just--" She shrugged even though June couldn't see it. "I buried it. It's fine. I'm fine."
"It's not fine that happened to you." June said softly.
"I know. But Chris--" She paused. A small smile crept in without permission. "Chris hasn't shown me a single red flag June. Not one. He's never pushed. Never made me feel like that's all he sees when he looks at me." She looked at the ceiling. "He just shows up. Consistently. And I don't know what to do with that because I'm not used to it."
June took a long slow breath.
"That's exactly why you can't run from this one," she said gently. "Dave broke you. Ryan scared you. And now someone good is standing right in front of you and your first instinct is still to bolt."
*A little beat.* "Don't. Okay? Just stay."
Irene didn't answer immediately.
But she didn't argue either.
"Yeah," she said quietly. "Okay. I'll stay."
They talked for a little while longer.
Nothing much. June made her laugh twice before they hung up around 8pm.
And for the first time since Sunday, the tightness in Irene's chest had loosened to something manageable.
She freshened up and cooked dinner.
She made pasta. Ate.
Got cozy into her bed. Sipped on fruit juice. Wrote stuff in her diary. Read stories and watched a couple of funny videos online to ease up tension.
Her phone buzzed in her hand at half past nine.
It was a text from Chris...