Espresso in The Rain

Noah didn't expect to be standing outside his mother's house at eight in the evening, staring at the grand doors like they were a locked gate he couldn't bring himself to push open.

His fingers hovered over the doorbell, hesitating. He had ignored her last two phone calls, knowing exactly what the conversation would be.

Noah, when are you coming home?

Noah, I saw your grades—are you still focused on your future?

Noah, don't waste time on distractions.

Distractions.

His jaw tightened.

He thought of Elias—his warmth, his voice, the way he made Noah feel like he could breathe, even when the world felt too heavy.

Was that what his mother would call Elias? Just another distraction?

Before he could change his mind, he pressed the doorbell.

Seconds later, the door swung open, and there she was—his mother, impeccably dressed as always, her sharp brown eyes scanning him like she already knew he was hiding something.

"Noah." Her voice was smooth but firm, like a practiced melody. "You're late."

"I didn't know I had a time limit," he muttered.

She sighed, stepping aside. "Come in."

Noah entered the vast, modern house that had never quite felt like home. The scent of jasmine lingered in the air, expensive furniture perfectly arranged as if no one ever lived there.

They settled in the sleek living room, and she poured herself a glass of wine, her eyes never leaving him.

"You've been distant," she said finally, watching him over the rim of her glass.

"I've been busy."

Her lips pressed into a thin line. "With school?"

"…Yes."

A lie.

He had been at The Roasted Heaven, wrapped in Elias' sheets, tangled in something that felt too real, too dangerous.

His mother exhaled. "Noah, I know you. And I know when you're hiding something."

He clenched his fists. "Why does it always have to be hiding? Maybe I just don't want you controlling every part of my life."

She arched a brow. "I only want what's best for you."

"What's best for me, or what's best for the future you've already decided I should have?"

Silence.

A beat too long.

Then—

"I see," she said coolly, setting her wine glass down. "So this is about that boy."

Noah's breath caught.

His mother's gaze sharpened. "Elias Carter, isn't it?"

Ice shot through his veins.

"How do you—"

"I have my ways," she interrupted smoothly. "You think I wouldn't notice you spending all your time at some little coffee shop? Or that your focus has started slipping?"

Noah's heart pounded. "He's not—"

"Don't lie to me, Noah."

Her voice was sharp now. Cutting.

His fingers curled against his jeans. "I'm not lying," he said through clenched teeth. "And even if I was seeing him, why does it matter?"

She studied him for a long moment, then sighed, her expression unreadable.

"Noah, I don't care that you're seeing a man," she said. "But I do care if he's a distraction."

Noah's stomach twisted.

Of course.

It wasn't about who he loved—it was about whether or not it fit into the life she had planned for him.

"I won't let you throw away your future for something temporary," she continued.

Noah flinched.

Temporary.

Was that what she thought Elias was?

Or worse—was that what Elias was?

"I need to go," Noah muttered, standing abruptly.

His mother sighed. "Noah—"

But he was already heading for the door, his chest tight, his mind spinning.

He didn't stop walking until he was outside, the cold air hitting his skin.

His phone buzzed in his pocket.

A message.

Elias: You okay?

Noah stared at the screen, his heart aching.

He wanted to say yes.

But the truth was, he didn't know anymore.