Chapter 7 Vanelle Cafe

• Zara woke up to the sharp buzz of her phone vibrating against the nightstand. Her eyelid felt heavy and glued shut with residue of unshed tears and restless sleep. She groaned, rolled over and squinted at the screen. The caller ID Dad.
• She quickly swiped to answer.
• “Hey, sweetie,” came her dad’s familiar, warm voice. “Just wanted to let you know I’ll be back tomorrow.” Zara felt a knot of relief and longing tightening in her chest, easing some of the icy loneliness that had settled deep within her.
• “Already? That’s fast,” Zara managed, a sleepy smile touching her lips for the first time in days. Tomorrow. A small, hopeful light flickered within her, chasing away some of the shadows.
• They talked for several minutes, catching up about little things. His voice was a tether to comfort, a reminder that she wasn’t entirely alone in the whirlwind her life had become.
• Each word was a comfort, it served as a small reassurance that some things, some people were still constant.
• After the call ended, Zara stayed in bed a moment longer, scrolling absently through her phone. For the first time in days, she felt a flicker of energy like something inside her was shifting. Not peace exactly, but something akin to anticipation, a quiet hum of excitement for what's on the way.
• Then her eyes landed on the message again.
• “Don’t wear your mask. I want to meet you, not Jayden’s half.”
• She stared at the words, her heart skipping slightly.
• “Who is this person?” she whispered.
• She reread the message slowly, tracing the words with her fingertip. It still wasn’t an insult exactly. It felt more like a challenge. And today, at Vanelle Café, she would find out who had written them.
• The thought of revenge on Jayden and Elena still danced in the back of her mind, sending a little thrill of rebellion down her spine but it was less about hurting them now and more about reclaiming something for herself.
• The betrayal had stolen her peace, her public image, her confidence, it even had some brands cancelling their contract with her and she wanted to take it all back.
• Revenge. The word hummed in Zara’s ear like it was a forbidden melody, dark and at the same time tempting.
• She stood up, letting her bare feet sink into the rug beneath her bed, and moved toward her closet. No drama, no extra effort. She chose a simple, dark green dress, soft, elegant, and understated. It was something simple.
• A touch of lip balm. No foundation. Just a light moisturizer. She let her hair air dry, allowing her waves to fall freely and frame her face however they pleased. No mask. At least not today.
• The drive to Vanelle Café was a blur of muted colors and forgotten turns. And an hour later Zara stood in front of Vanelle Café, a warm, cozy spot tucked between two art galleries. Known for its rich coffee and soft ambiance, it was familiar enough to feel safe, but still held the mystery of a first-time encounter.
• As Zara stepped inside the café, the scent of roasted coffee beans, melted butter, and cinnamon filled the air. It was comforting, familiar but her nerves were louder. Her eyes scanned the room, heartbeat racing. Searching for what? A prankster, a lunatic or something else entirely. Since he already notified her of his arrival at the café in a simple text a few minutes ago.
• Was this real? Would he even show up?
• Then she saw him.
• He sat in the far corner, facing the door. He wasn’t watching her his attention was on his phone, head bowed slightly so the soft light from the window caught the edge of his face.
• He wore a dark jumper, sleeves casually pushed up to reveal strong forearms. Dark trousers. No flashy brands. No look-at-me energy. Just... calm, quiet confidence.
• Zara’s breath hitched. A strange jolt went through her.
• It was him.
• She hesitated. Her fingers twitched at her sides. For a second, she almost turned back. But then as if sensing her presence he looked up straight at her.
• Their eyes met.
• And for a moment, the deafening noise inside her stopped. The swirling thoughts, the aching betrayal, all of it faded into a distant hum.
• He smiled. Not wide. Not forced. Just enough to invite her forward.
• Zara took a hesitant step forward, the path to revenge has been laid out before her.