The soft chime of the bell above the café door rang for what felt like the hundredth time that day.

Bright Vicharwit Satur - gentle, polite, and endlessly patient - smiled through the fatigue that was tugging at his cheeks. He wore his usual beige apron, a little smudge of cocoa powder staining one corner.

"Here's your caramel latte, with extra cream!" he said cheerfully, handing the steaming cup to a young woman who beamed at him.

"Thank you, Bright! You always make it perfect," she said before hurrying off to the corner table.

Bright's smile softened. Not always perfect, he thought. He had accidentally mixed up orders three times that day. One customer had yelled. Another had rolled their eyes. But still, people came back - maybe because his kindness made up for his clumsy moments.

It was almost closing time. The sun dipped behind the Bangkok skyline, casting warm gold light through the café windows. Bright sighed, rubbing his tired wrists as he wiped the last table. He looked toward a couple sitting near the window - laughing, their hands entwined.

And for a second... his world went still.

That small gesture - fingers laced together - reminded him of someone he couldn't forget.

Jeff Satur.

His husband.

-or rather, ex-husband now.

Bright's heart ached as flashes of memories poured in - Jeff's teasing smirks, his protective arms, his deep voice calling him "Little Star."

But that was before the misunderstanding. Before everything fell apart.

He didn't even fully understand what went wrong. Jeff had come home furious one night, something about a betrayal, something about Bright being "careless." Bright, too naïve and emotional, had cried instead of explaining. The next morning, papers were on the table. A signature later, and their world shattered.

The bell jingled as the last customer left, dragging Bright back to the present. He turned the CLOSED sign on the door and started cleaning the counter.

Then - knock, knock.

Bright frowned. "Uh... sorry, we're closing," he called softly, stepping closer.

But the person outside didn't move away. Instead, the stranger in black - dressed head to toe, face covered by a black mask - gestured toward the door.

"I just need one cup of coffee," the man's voice said - deep, smooth, commanding.

Something about it made Bright pause. It tugged at a distant corner of his heart, though he couldn't quite place why.

"O-Okay," he murmured, unlocking the door. "But only one cup."

The stranger entered, bringing a faint chill with him. He sat at the corner table, the one Jeff used to like. Bright turned away quickly, focusing on the coffee machine, on anything but the strange feeling creeping through his chest.

He served the coffee - a simple black, no sugar - and placed it on the table. "Here you go," Bright said, his voice gentle.

Then, the stranger chuckled. Low. Familiar. Dangerous.

Bright blinked. "You sound-"

Before he could finish, the man slowly removed his mask.

Bright froze. His breath hitched. His hands trembled.

"...Jeff?" he whispered, barely audible.

Jeff Satur, the man he thought he'd lost forever, sat before him in his black coat, his sharp gaze glinting under the café lights - half dangerous, half longing.

"Missed me, baby?" Jeff smirked, his tone smooth, teasing. "I saw your little café and thought... I should have a taste. Of the coffee, of course."

Bright's heart raced. "Wh-what are you doing here, huh? We're divorced, remember?"

Jeff leaned forward, eyes locked onto Bright's. "Divorced on paper, maybe. But tell me, Little Star... did your heart ever sign it?"

Bright's cheeks flushed. He looked away, stammering, "Y-you can't just come in here and-"

Jeff rose from his chair, stepping close - too close. Before Bright could move back, Jeff tilted his chin up and pressed a quick, firm kiss to his lips.

Bright's eyes went wide, his heart thudding so hard it almost hurt.

Then Jeff pulled back, smirking, brushing his thumb over Bright's lower lip. "Still tastes the same. Sweet and soft."

"Jeff... stop it," Bright whispered, voice trembling. "We're not-"

Jeff's eyes softened, just for a moment. Then the ruthless CEO mask slid back in place.

"It's time," he said quietly, his voice laced with something dangerous yet tender. "To go back where you belong... love."

And with that, he set the payment on the counter, gave Bright one last unreadable look, and walked out into the night.

Bright stood there, lips tingling, heart confused, tears threatening.

He didn't know whether to be angry... or relieved.

All he knew was that Jeff Satur - the man he thought he'd lost - was back.

And this time, he didn't seem like he was going to let Bright go again.