The morning sun filtered through the grimy windows of Luna's Café, casting elongated shadows across the worn checkered floor. Ava Sullivan moved behind the counter with practiced ease, her hands deftly preparing orders while her mind lingered on the haunting dream that had disturbed her sleep.
The bell above the door chimed, signaling the entrance of a new customer. Ava glanced up, her breath catching as her eyes met those of the man who had just walked in. He was tall, with tousled dark hair and eyes that held a depth she couldn't immediately comprehend.
He approached the counter, offering a polite smile.
"Good morning," he said, his voice smooth and familiar in a way that sent a shiver down Ava's spine.
"Morning," she replied, her voice steadier than she felt. "What can I get for you?"
He scanned the menu briefly. "Just a black coffee, please."
As she prepared his drink, Ava couldn't shake the feeling that she knew him, though she was certain they'd never met. When she handed him the cup, their fingers brushed, and a jolt of recognition surged through her.
"I'm sorry, have we met before?" she asked, her brow furrowing.
He looked at her, surprise flickering in his eyes. "I don't think so. But you do seem familiar."
He offered a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, then turned to find a seat. Ava watched him go, her heart pounding. She shook her head, trying to dispel the unease that had settled over her.
As the day wore on, she found herself stealing glances at him, noting the way he sipped his coffee, the way he occasionally glanced her way. There was something about him that stirred memories just out of reach.
That night, the dream returned.
She stood in a lavish office, a letter in her hand, the city lights twinkling below. A voice called her name—Isabella. She turned, and there he was, the man from the café, his eyes filled with love and desperation.
She awoke with a start, the name echoing in her mind.
Isabella.