Nova parked her car just outside the café. The streets buzzed with the late-morning rush, but she barely noticed. Her thoughts were louder than the honking horns or the chatter of pedestrians. It was already 10 a.m. when she arrived. Her grip tightened around the steering wheel, hesitation coiling in her chest like a vice.
She drew in a deep breath, then another. Finally, she got out of the car and walked toward the entrance, her heels clicking against the pavement, each step echoing the nervous drum of her heartbeat.
The café door chimed as she pushed it open, and the warm scent of espresso and pastries enveloped her. She immediately spotted him. Andrew was behind the counter, leaning forward slightly as he took a customer's order. He smiled faintly, pen in hand, nodding as he wrote something down. His sleeves were rolled up, exposing the lean muscle of his forearms, and his hair was slightly tousled.
Nova approached the counter, unsure of what she expected—but it wasn't the look he gave her when he noticed her.
"Hello, welcome to—" he began, but then his voice faltered as his eyes met hers. A flicker of something unreadable crossed his face. He quickly masked it, replacing it with a professionally neutral expression.
"Miss Volkov. What would you like today?"
Nova blinked. "Miss Volkov? Are you kidding me?"
"Yes. Your last name is Volkov, so yeah—Miss Volkov," he said flatly, his voice a touch too clipped.
Nova huffed, crossing her arms. "You've got to be kidding me, Andrew. So what, you're going to treat me like a stranger because I tried to kiss you last night? Look, I get it. You're upset."
He didn't raise his voice. Didn't move closer. He just looked at her, calm on the outside but his eyes—his eyes said everything.
"No, you don't get it," he said. "Nova, you're a Volkov. And I'm just a guy who makes cappuccinos and worries whether I'll keep my scholarship next semester. You don't know what that's like. You have everything, Nova. Everything. We're from different worlds. And I'm sorry, but I don't see anything happening between us."
She stared at him, stunned but not defeated. Her voice softened. "Andrew… look, I get it. You think there's this massive gap between us, and yeah—you're right. There is. But money and status shouldn't be what makes or breaks a friendship or connection. You're the only person who's looked at me as Nova. Just Nova. Not the daughter of Elara and Nikolai. Not the heiress to a name that weighs like chains around my neck."
Her throat tightened slightly, but she pushed on. "And yes, I'm sorry. For trying to kiss you. I acted on impulse. I've never had a close relationship with any boy who wasn't family or part of my father's empire. I probably made you uncomfortable, and I hate that. But I'd really like to keep hanging out with you. Just as friends. No pressure. No expectations. Just… me and you."
Andrew looked down, his fingers curling slightly against the counter. He sighed, long and heavy.
"Nova… you don't understand. I grew up with nothing. I've lived in orphanages, I've worked for everything I have. You—"
"I know," she said gently, stepping a little closer. "And I'm not asking you to forget that. But I'm asking you to let me be your friend. Let me prove that the gap doesn't matter. Please."
His shoulders slumped slightly. He hesitated.
Then nodded. "Okay."
Her eyes brightened. "Really?"
"Yeah. Just friends."
Nova grinned. "I swear I won't try to kiss you again. My dad has kept me so sheltered from boys that the moment I got too close to one, I completely malfunctioned. But I promise… I'll behave."
Andrew gave her a crooked smile. "I get it."
"Perfect. So let's go somewhere. Walk. Talk. Whatever. No kissing."
"Nova… I'm working," he reminded her.
She looked around dramatically. "Where's your boss?"
"In the back."
"Go get him."
He looked nervous but obeyed. Moments later, he returned with a middle-aged man whose salt-and-pepper hair was combed neatly and whose eyes widened in surprise the moment he saw her.
"Miss Volkov. I hear you'd like to see me?"
Nova offered him a dazzling smile. "Yes. I'd like Andrew to have the rest of the day off. I'll have someone cover his shift in two minutes."
The man blinked and glanced at Andrew, who just shrugged.
"Of course. Anything for you."
"Wonderful," Nova said. She pulled out her phone and dialed a number.
The line clicked, and a gruff voice answered. "Nova. What have you done now?"
"Hey, Uncle Sergei. Can you come to the café down the street? I need you to cover someone's shift. And don't tell Dad. Please. I swear I'll make it up to you."
There was a pause. A sigh. And then, "Fine. I'm on my way."
Fifteen minutes later, the bell above the café door jingled again, and in walked Sergei.
He was still as terrifying as ever—broad shoulders, a scar cutting through one brow, expression carved from stone. He looked like the kind of man who could knock out a bear and not spill his coffee. The room seemed to still as he entered.
The café owner paled. He took one glance at Sergei and stepped back as if fearing for his life. Who wouldn't? Sergei wasn't just intimidating—he was danger in human form. Even Nikolai still admitted Sergei could knock him out if he ever had to.
Nova smirked and patted Sergei on the back. "You'll make a great barista. Don't break the espresso machine."
He groaned. Loudly. But he didn't protest.
Andrew stared at the man, then looked at Nova, bewildered. "You… called him?"
"I told you I could get the shift covered in two minutes," she said proudly.
The café owner quickly handed Sergei an apron with trembling hands.
And just like that, Nova grabbed Andrew's arm and pulled him toward the door. "Let's go. I have plans for us."
Behind them, Sergei stared at the espresso machine with disdain.
"If this thing breaks, I'm blaming you, Nova," he muttered.
Nova waved without turning around. "You'll live. Maybe."
And with that, the door swung shut behind them.
Nova and Andrew strolled down the street side by side, the late morning sun casting warm glows across the sidewalk. It wasn't bustling, just quiet enough for their conversation to be comfortably heard over the occasional car that passed or the distant barking of a dog. Their steps fell in rhythm, and though neither of them said much at first, there was an easy calm in the air.
Nova broke the silence. "So… how long have you been working at the café?"
Andrew glanced at her. "Uh, four months now. Before that, I was working at a convenience store."
She raised a brow. "Oh? You left?"
He let out a humorless laugh. "Nope. Got fired."
"Oh." Nova's lips twitched. "Mind if I ask why?"
"Got into a fight with a co-worker. He was saying some really gross things to a customer. I told him to stop. He didn't. So I… broke his nose."
Nova blinked and then grinned. "So you can throw a punch?"
Andrew chuckled softly, his eyes flicking to her with a hint of amusement. "Maybe."
"You're cool."
He gave her a look. "You think a guy who breaks his co-worker's nose is cool?"
"Yep. Especially if it's for the right reasons. Besides, it's not like you'd break mine."
"You trust me that much?"
She gave him a smirk. "Nah. That's because I'd break yours first before you could break mine."
He laughed, the sound unguarded and warm. "Wait—you can throw a punch too?"
"Absolutely." Nova beamed. "You see the guy who's covering your shift right now? That's Sergei. He taught me. My dad knows better than to pick a fight with him. Sergei may be older than dirt, but he can knock out most men half his age. He trained my dad. Then trained me after I begged him for months. And yeah—he's my godfather."
Andrew's eyebrows rose. "Oh… really?"
"Yep. And he's the kind of godfather who can both braid your hair and break someone's bones in under five seconds."
Andrew shook his head, impressed. "Remind me never to get on your bad side."
"Smart man," she said with a wink.
They continued walking, eventually passing a small park tucked between two old buildings. A gentle breeze rustled the trees, and birds chirped in the distance. The sun glinted off the surface of a pond nestled near a patch of trimmed grass.
Nova's eyes lit up mischievously.
"What?" Andrew asked, narrowing his gaze.
Without a word, she suddenly darted toward him, gave him a gentle shove, and before he could stop himself, he stumbled forward—right into the shallow pond.
"Nova!" he spluttered as he surfaced, drenched from head to toe. Water dripped from his hair, and the bottom of his pants clung awkwardly to his legs.
Nova burst into uncontrollable laughter, doubling over with her hands on her knees. "Oh my God—you should've seen your face!"
But the amusement drained from her eyes a second later.
Andrew scrambled out of the water with a speed born of panic. His breaths came in shallow gasps. His eyes darted around, unfocused, like he wasn't seeing the present but something much darker, much more distant.
Nova straightened, concern replacing her laughter. "Andrew?"
He didn't answer. He turned sharply and shoved her—hard. She stumbled backward, unprepared, and hit the ground with a soft grunt.
For a beat, they both froze.
Andrew's face paled as he realized what he'd just done. His breathing still ragged, eyes wide with a mixture of guilt and residual fear.
Nova sat there, stunned. Not hurt—at least not physically—but the mood had shifted completely.
And just like that, the weight of what lay between them—the trauma, the differences, the pain neither had fully spoken of—settled like dust in the air.