Suddenly, the lights flickered back on, flooding the library in soft yellow warmth.
Garson looked down, only finding her still in his arms.
His voice was gentle—quieter than she had ever heard it.
"Danna… the lights are back."
Her eyes fluttered open, blinking against the brightness.
And that's when she realized—she was still holding him.
With a small gasp, she quickly pulled away, her cheeks burning.
She wiped at her tear-streaked face, trying to pull herself together.
"I-I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice cracking just slightly.
Danna knelt slowly, her fingers fumbling slightly as she gathered the fallen books—still quiet, still shaken.
But Garson's gaze never left her.
He stood still, watching her movements—but in his mind, it was something else entirely.
I didn't know you were dealing with something so painful... that it could cause this.
This panic. This silence. This storm inside you.
He didn't say it.
But he felt it—deep, and unexpected.
As she stood up and turned to leave, Garson suddenly spoke—his voice calm, but firm.
"Listen… I'll drop you."
Danna hesitated, her lips parting to refuse, but then—
a memory hit her like a flash: the masked guy, lurking in the shadows days ago.
Her heart skipped.
She nodded.
Before she could say a word, Garson stepped forward, reached for the books in her arms, and took them without asking.
"Let's go," he said simply, already walking ahead.
And for once…
Danna followed without a fight.
The car ride was silent, filled only with the soft hum of the engine and the thoughts neither of them dared to speak aloud.
Then, without warning, Garson pulled over.
Danna blinked and finally turned her gaze from the window—her voice still caught in her throat.
She looked outside.
An ice cream shop?
"Ice cream?" she thought, confused for a moment.
But then—something stirred in her memory.
A distant flicker.
A warm moment from a time she didn't talk about anymore.
Her eyes lingered on the neon sign, heart suddenly quieter than before.
Danna had a sudden flashback.
She was little again—no library, no panic, no Garson.
Just her, standing at the window, eyes wide with joy.
Her father walked through the gate, a smile on his face, holding two cones of her favorite pistachio ice cream.
"Danna, Danna," he called in that warm, familiar voice—
the kind that wrapped around her like a hug even before he got close.
Her heart ached as the memory flickered like an old film—blurry around the edges, but crystal clear in her soul.
His voice echoed in her mind,
"Danna, my little star…"
And just like that—
the present returned.
The car. The quiet. The ice cream shop glowing under the night sky.
But her heart still felt he was close even though her mind denied.
"Which flavor would you like, Danna?" Garson asked, his voice low but calm.
She blinked—more at his words than the question itself.
Danna.
Not Miss Coffee.
Not enemy.
Just… Danna.
Her heart paused for a moment.
It was the first time he'd said her name like that.
She glanced at him, eyes soft with surprise.
Does he… really have a soft heart?
Was it always there? Hidden beneath all that pride and fire?
The question lingered in her chest—warm, confusing, and kind of beautiful.
"Pistachio. Thank you," Danna said softly, turning her face back toward the window, hiding whatever stirred in her eyes.
Garson stepped out of the car.
Moments later, he returned with two cones—mango for himself, and pistachio for her.
They sat in silence again, the soft sound of night and ice cream slowly melting filling the space between them.
But then—Garson looked over.
And froze.
Her face…
Her cheeks were streaked with tears, quiet and constant, like her heart had broken without making a sound.
He was stunned.
He didn't expect this.
"What happened?" he asked, his voice suddenly filled with worry.
"Did it have something in it? Are you okay?"
He leaned closer, panic flickering in his eyes.
But Danna didn't respond right away.
Because the tears weren't about the ice cream at all.
"My dad…" Danna whispered, her voice cracking,
"He used to bring me ice cream… all the time."
Her words hung in the air, heavy and soft, like they'd been trapped inside her for too long.
Garson didn't speak.
Instead, he reached into the glove compartment and quietly passed her a tissue.
No lecture. No jokes. Just… understanding.
Danna took it slowly, and when she looked up…
Their eyes finally met.
For a moment, everything else vanished.
The cars. The night. The tears.
Just them—face to face, soul to soul.
Then Garson spoke, his voice unusually gentle.
"Why do you always make these eyes of yours red?"
He tilted his head slightly, trying to keep it light… but the concern slipped through.
"They don't look good this way."
Danna let out a soft, broken laugh.
The kind that only comes when someone sees you too clearly.
"Oh wow," Danna said, letting out a small chuckle as she dabbed at her eyes.
"My enemy is caring for me… it feels illegal."
Garson let out a quiet breath through his nose—almost a laugh—and for the first time, a genuine smile crept onto his face.
Not a smirk.
Not sarcastic.
Just… real.
"Maybe I'm breaking the law then," he said, glancing at her sideways.
For a moment, the night felt lighter.
And in the glow of the ice cream shop, with tearful eyes and melting cones,
they didn't feel like enemies at all.
"You can't, Mr. Whatever," Danna shot back with a playful smile,
"We're meant to be like this."
Garson smirked, leaning back a little, eyes gleaming with mischief.
"You're really dumb sometimes—saying things you don't even understand the depth of."
"How am I dumb?" Danna raised an eyebrow, challenging him with a grin.
Garson leaned in closer, eyes sparkling with mischief.
"You said we're meant to be."
He winked, clearly enjoying her flustered reaction.
Danna's eyes went wide, cheeks warming.
"I didn't mean it that way!" she said quickly, trying to hide her blush.
Garson just chuckled softly, leaning back with that satisfied smirk—knowing he'd won this round.
Danna finished the last bite of her pistachio ice cream, the cold sweetness lingering on her tongue. Garson did the same with his mango cone, the quiet between them comfortable now—like a soft, warm blanket.
He started the car, the engine humming softly as they pulled back onto the road.
Outside, the night stretched wide and still, but inside the car, something had shifted.
A new kind of calm.
A quiet understanding.
Danna stepped out of the car, the cool night air wrapping around her as she glanced up at her house.
Just as she was about to start walking, she turned back and spoke a little louder than she intended.
"Thanks."
Garson's lips curled into a knowing smirk, and with a cheeky wink, he simply nodded.
Danna smiled softly before disappearing inside.
Garson watched the sight of her retreating figure, his thoughts heavy.
Pain is the factor, which is common for both of us, Miss Coffee, he thought quietly.
With that, he started the car and drove away—leaving the night to hold their unspoken truths.