The last hour of my shift settles into a comfortable rhythm. The buzz of the espresso machine, the clink of cups, and the mellow music in the background blend into something almost meditative. With Noah beside me, it doesn't feel like work. It feels like something else—an echo of a life I didn't know I wanted.
When the clock on the wall hits 3.59 PM., I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding. My first full shift. I made it.
"Right on time," Noah says, glancing at the door. "Night crew should be here any minute."
And sure enough, it swings open with a jingle. In walk two people I've only heard about but never really met—well, I've met Chloe before when the first time I came here, but it was different situation.
Paul is exactly what Yuna described—a tall, broad-shouldered guy with tattoos peeking out from under his rolled-up sleeves and a chain hanging from his belt loop. His hair is slicked back, and he has the kind of resting face that could silence a room. But then he spots us and breaks into the biggest, brightest grin I've ever seen.
"Yo! Newbie!" he shouts, striding over with arms wide as if we're old friends. "You must be Knox, right? Finally, I get to meet the famous new barista."
Before I can reply, he pulls me into a brief, enthusiastic hug that smells faintly of cigarette smoke and cinnamon.
"Uh, yeah," I say, blinking. "Hi. I'm Knox."
Chloe follows behind him. She's petite, wrapped in a mustard yellow sweater with a braid over one shoulder. There's something positive about her presence, like she brings spring with her. One of her eyes doesn't quite focus the same way as the other, but it doesn't lessen the radiance of her smile.
"Nice to meet you properly," she says gently. "You're doing really well, from what I heard. Yuna sounded like a proud mom."
"Thanks. It's nice to meet you both."
Paul throws an arm over Chloe's shoulder and laughs. "Don't let the quiet act fool you. She's almost as loud as Yuna, just a little shy at first. Chloe can handle three drink orders at once while solving crossword puzzles.
"I can barely handle a milk pitcher," I mutter.
Paul grins wider. "You'll get there. We all burned ourselves a hundred times in week one."
Noah clears his throat, grabbing his coat from the back room. "Alright, you two. He's off the clock. Don't scare him too much."
"Scare him? I'm a ray of sunshine," Paul says, patting my shoulder.
"A very loud one," Chloe adds, and they both laugh.
Noah and I slip out after take off our aprons and pack our bags, and the cold air hits instantly. Winter in the city is cruel, but clean. It stings the cheeks, bites the ears, and somehow wakes up all the senses. We walk side by side in comfortable silence toward the bus stop.
"You did great today," Noah says eventually. "Better than I expected."
"Thanks. You're a good trainer."
He shrugs like it means nothing. "I just point and smile. You did the rest." We pass a convenience store, and Noah suddenly slows. "Actually, wait. Change of plans. Come here."
He tugs my sleeve lightly and leads me through the automatic doors. The fluorescent lights buzz overhead. I follow him down the aisles, still unsure what we're doing.
"Are we ... grocery shopping?"
"Emergency rations," he says, holding up two instant noodle cups like they're treasures. "Best way to survive a winter evening. Come on. It's on me."
We pay and find a bench just outside, beneath a heater lamp. Noah pours hot water from the store's kettle into our cups and hands one to me. The heat rises instantly, fogging my glasses. I take a deep breath. The scent of artificial broth and dried vegetables has never smelled better.
"This is dangerously good," I mumble between slurps.
Noah laughs, propping his elbow on the back of the bench. "Told you. Nothing like it after a shift."
We eat in silence for a while, the plastic forks scraping gently against styrofoam. I never had this instant noodle before. I thought my life was so perfect and I had tried everything. But I missed out. There are so many things I didn't know and hadn't experienced. I was too big on the head.
I glance at him now and then. His calm demeanor isn't forced. He's not one of those people who pretends to be chill. He just is. Like a mountain or a tide. Strong in ways that don't make noise.
"Do you always walk people to their bus stop after work?" I ask, half-joking.
"Only the ones who matter."
It stops me for a second. I look at him, but he's not even watching me. Just staring out at the street like he didn't say anything unusual.
I clear my throat. "I like working with you."
"Likewise."
The noodles are gone too fast. The cup is empty, the moment quieter now. The wind howls a little louder, and I pull my coat tighter.
"You're settling in well," Noah says, "Yuna was right about you."
"Right about what?"
"That you needed this job more than it needed you."
He's not wrong. I chew on my lower lip, looking away. "Maybe."
He finishes his noodles, stacks the cups, and leans back again. "You planning to stay a while?"
"At the cafe?" He nods. "I don't know. I think ... I want to. I like it there. I like the people. And it's weird, but it feels like somewhere I can breathe."
"That's all I want this place to be," he says, "for anyone who walks in. Customers, staff, wanderers."
His eyes meet mine for a moment, and something heavy but warm passes between us. Not romantic, not exactly. Just real. Like an anchor.
I glance at my phone. The bus will be here in five minutes.
"I should go. Thank you for the instant noodles."
Noah stands too, brushing invisible dust from his coat. "Alright. Let me know you got home safe."
"Okay."
He watches me board the bus, hands in his pockets, scarf pulled high over his mouth. And as the bus pulls away, I turn to catch one last look at him. Still standing there. Still watching.
Somehow, in this frozen, unpredictable city, that one constant—his calm presence, his quiet care—feels like something worth holding onto.
Maybe I won't be alone after all.