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Friendship did not arrive loudly.
It came in the form of two extra cups on a small café table and the refusal to leave when leaving would have been easier.
Lucas was the first to make himself comfortable.
He showed up the next morning at Torres Brew like he had always belonged there, claiming the corner table with a crooked grin and an unapologetic stretch of his long legs.
"I work better in places with caffeine and unresolved tension," he announced.
Kiara raised an eyebrow. "You don't work."
"I emotionally supervise," he corrected.
Lisa arrived an hour later, quieter but no less intentional. She rolled up her sleeves without asking and helped Ava behind the counter when the morning rush hit. She didn't try to impress anyone. She didn't explain herself.
She just stayed.
Kiara noticed the shift almost immediately.
Staff conversations softened when Lucas joked with customers. Lisa listened—to everyone. Even when people were defensive, she met them with calm, grounding attention.
"You don't flinch," Kiara said later, handing Lisa a mug.
Lisa smiled faintly. "I used to. Then I learned flinching gives fear too much credit."
Lucas leaned back in his chair. "She means she's terrifying when crossed."
Lisa kicked his foot under the table.
For the first time in days, Kiara laughed without forcing it.
They didn't talk about Shane at first.
That mattered.
Instead, Lucas talked about architecture projects that failed spectacularly. Lisa spoke about nonprofit work she never advertised. They asked Kiara about her parents—not the tragedy, but the people.
"What was your mother like?" Lisa asked gently.
Kiara hesitated, then answered. "She hummed when she cleaned. Always off-key."
Lucas smiled. "That's love language."
Something loosened in Kiara's chest.
By afternoon, the shop buzzed differently.
Not better.
Just… aware.
People watched.
They whispered.
Lucas noticed first.
"Okay," he said quietly, leaning toward Kiara. "You've got eyes on you."
"I know," she replied.
"No," Lisa added softly. "You feel them. That's worse."
Kiara nodded.
The article came out before closing.
A customer showed her—hesitant, apologetic.
The headline wasn't cruel.
It was careful.
That made it sharper.
LOCAL BUSINESS SURVIVES WITH PRIVATE BACKING
Comments followed.
Speculation. Judgment. Curiosity dressed as concern.
Lucas read them once, then closed his phone. "You're not obligated to explain your survival."
"I know," Kiara said.
But she also knew silence had a cost.
After closing, they stayed.
All three of them.
No one suggested leaving.
They sat on the floor behind the counter, backs against cabinets, exhaustion settling into the space between them.
"Can I ask something?" Lucas said.
Kiara nodded.
"Do you trust him?" he asked—not accusing, not probing. Just honest.
Kiara stared at the ceiling. "Yes."
Lisa watched her closely. "And does that scare you?"
"Yes."
Lucas smiled. "Good. Means you're paying attention."
They talked then—not about money or contracts, but about boundaries.
Lisa explained why she had once turned down a powerful sponsor for her own work. Lucas admitted he'd taken help when pride nearly ruined him.
"There's no purity test for survival," Lisa said. "Only honesty."
Kiara absorbed that quietly.
Later that night, Shane came by.
He stopped when he saw them—Kiara sitting between Lucas and Lisa, laughter lingering in the air.
Something unreadable crossed his face.
Relief.
Maybe gratitude.
He didn't interrupt.
Just waited.
When Lucas finally stood, he clapped Shane lightly on the shoulder. "She's tougher than all of us."
Lisa smiled at Kiara. "Tomorrow will be louder."
Kiara nodded. "I know."
After they left, the shop felt fuller instead of empty.
Shane leaned against the counter. "They like you."
"They didn't come for you," Kiara said quietly.
"I noticed," he replied.
She hesitated, then said, "I think… I'm ready for the next part."
His gaze sharpened—but he didn't rush her.
"Tomorrow," she continued, "I go to campus."
He nodded once. "I'll stay out of it."
"Thank you."
Silence settled again.
Comfortable.
Fragile.
Before leaving, Kiara locked the shop and stood there for a moment longer than necessary.
Tomorrow, the whispers would follow her.
Tomorrow, survival would be questioned publicly.
But tonight, she wasn't alone.
And that made all the difference.
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