Festival day turned the café into a battlefield of caffeine and chaos. The air smelled of roasted beans and sugar, laughter spilling in from the street where booths lined the sidewalk. Inside, every table was full, and the line at the counter stretched to the door.

Celine darted from the espresso machine to the pastry display, apron dusted in flour, hair frizzing at the edges. She tried to keep up with orders, but cups clattered, milk frothed too long, and caramel sauce dripped across her hand ...