My Billionaire Ex Beg For A Second Chance-Chapter 9: A Name to Remember

It had been a few days since the incident with the difficult customer—the day Katherine had met the quiet, dark-hooded stranger who had stepped in like something out of a half-forgotten dream.

Since then, life had settled back into its usual pace. The café thrummed with its daily rhythms: the sharp hiss of steaming milk, the low murmur of conversations, the steady click of cups setting onto saucers. Yet, woven into the fabric of her routine, there was now something—or rather, someone—new.

The man who had saved her, whose name she still didn’t know, had started appearing more often.

Not every day, but enough that Katherine began to notice the pattern. Sometimes he would come in around lunchtime, ordering something simple—a sandwich, a croissant, an iced coffee. Other times, he would slip in during the quieter afternoon hours when the sun cast long, lazy rays through the windows, ordering a tea or a small pastry. 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝔀𝓮𝒃𝙣𝓸𝒗𝒆𝒍.𝙘𝒐𝒎

And somehow, almost like clockwork, Katherine was always the one who took his order.

At first, she thought it coincidence. But the more it happened, the more she wondered.

Today was no different. The golden glow of the afternoon sun bathed the café in a soft warmth, and Katherine was busy arranging slices of pie in the display case when she noticed him again—hoodless this time, his dark hair catching the light, casting messy shadows across his forehead.

He stood in line patiently, hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket, his mouth tugged into a small, almost shy smile when their eyes met briefly. Katherine’s heart gave a tiny, traitorous skip.

As he reached the counter, she wiped her hands quickly on a cloth and greeted him with her usual gentle smile.

"Good afternoon," she said. "The usual?"

He chuckled lightly, the sound low and easy. "Sure. Surprise me today."

Katherine’s smile widened just a touch. "Coming right up."

She prepared his order—a cappuccino and a blueberry muffin—and carried it over to the corner seat he favored, the one by the window where he could watch the world pass by without drawing too much attention.

"Here you go," she said, setting the plate and cup down gently in front of him.

Before she could turn to leave, he spoke, his voice casual but holding a note of something... hesitant.

"Wait a second," he said, leaning back slightly in his chair. "Don’t you think it’s a little unfair?"

Katherine paused, confused. "Unfair?"

He gestured toward her apron, where her name tag sat neatly pinned. "I know your name," he said with a small tilt of his head, "but you don’t know mine."

Katherine blinked, then let out a soft laugh. "I guess that’s true," she admitted, feeling a little flustered.

Truthfully, she’d been so busy lately—juggling customers, cleaning tables, taking orders—that she hadn’t even thought to ask. She hadn’t wanted to slow down enough to feel too much, afraid that if she did, the sadness lingering after seeing Leonard and Miranda would pull her under again.

She offered him a sheepish smile. "Well... as much as we’ve met a few times now, I haven’t exactly had the luxury of standing still."

The man’s lips curved in an understanding smile. He shifted forward, resting his elbows lightly on the table.

"My name’s Felix," he said, extending a hand toward her. "Nice to meet you properly, Katherine."

For a brief moment, Katherine stared at his hand—strong, steady, patient—and then reached out to clasp it. His palm was warm against hers, grounding.

"I’m Katherine," she replied, squeezing lightly before pulling her hand back. Her cheeks warmed, and she ducked her head slightly, laughing under her breath. "And I must be the worst person ever, not even bothering to learn the name of the person who helped me."

Felix chuckled, the sound rumbling pleasantly in his chest. "You’ve been busy," he said easily. "And besides, I didn’t help you for a thank you."

There was something in the way he said it—simple, sincere—that made Katherine’s heart flutter again, a fragile thing against her ribs.

For a second, it felt like the air around them shifted, lighter somehow, easier.

She opened her mouth to say something more when a call from behind the counter snagged her attention.

"Katherine! Order ready for table four!"

She glanced back apologetically, then turned to Felix. "Duty calls."

He leaned back in his chair with a lazy grin. "Don’t work too hard," he said, his voice teasing but kind.

Katherine gave a small laugh, nodding, and turned away, clutching the tray at the pick-up station.

As she made her way behind the counter, she was intercepted by a familiar figure—her coworker Irene, who wore a wide, knowing grin.

"I saw that," Irene said, sing-songing under her breath as she nudged Katherine with her elbow.

Katherine blinked innocently. "Saw what?"

Irene waggled her eyebrows exaggeratedly. "Come on. The way he looks at you? The way you’re smiling? That man is totally hitting on you."

Heat flooded Katherine’s cheeks. She quickly focused on arranging the tray, her fingers moving a little too quickly.

"We just learned each other’s names," she said firmly, trying—and failing—to sound unaffected. "Tone it down, please."

Irene snickered, clearly not buying it. She bumped Katherine’s shoulder lightly before sashaying away, humming under her breath.

Shaking her head and trying to hide a grin, Katherine delivered the order to table four, her steps a little lighter than before.

As she turned to head back toward the counter, her gaze drifted almost instinctively toward Felix.

Their eyes met across the busy café—him with his cappuccino halfway to his lips, her with the empty tray tucked against her hip.

For a heartbeat, everything else—the noise, the movement, the clatter—faded into a soft, muted background.

Felix smiled.

It wasn’t a big, dazzling grin. It was small, almost shy, but it crinkled the corners of his eyes in a way that felt real. Uncomplicated.

Katherine found herself smiling back before she could even think about it.

Maybe it was nothing.

Or maybe, just maybe, it was the start of something she hadn’t even realized she needed.