The morning came heavy with humidity and the faint scent of espresso grounds that clung to everything—tables, air, skin. Navarro Coffee opened like any other day, sunlight pooling across its glass front, masking the tension simmering beneath its polished calm.

Celine moved through the café with quiet precision. Her motions were graceful, but not effortless. The rhythm that usually steadied her felt fractured. Every cup she placed, every order she called out, carried a subtle hesitation—as ...