Late-Night Conversations
Aerith wasn’t someone to let a mystery linger for long. The quiet woman who had sat in the same seat at every Dawn’s Bloom performance had piqued her curiosity for weeks. And now that she’d finally stepped into Seventh Heaven and met her, Aerith found herself drawn back again and again, as if pulled by some invisible thread.
“Back again?” Tifa asked, her lips curving into a soft smile as Aerith breezed through the café’s door one rainy evening.
“Guilty as charged,” Aerith replied, brushing a strand of damp hair from her face. She slipped off her coat and scarf, hanging them neatly on the rack by the door before making her way to the counter. “I think I’m becoming addicted to your caramel lattes.”
Tifa chuckled, already reaching for the espresso machine. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
The café was quieter than usual, the steady hum of conversation replaced by the occasional clink of a spoon against a cup. Most of the regulars had gone home, leaving only a few stragglers lingering over books or laptops. Aerith glanced around, her sharp green eyes taking in the cozy atmosphere, before settling into her favorite corner seat near the counter.
As the weeks passed, Aerith had become a regular fixture at Seventh Heaven, arriving after rehearsals with an easy smile and a knack for brightening the room. She charmed the customers effortlessly, chatting with Tifa’s regulars as if she’d known them for years. The grumpy old man who came in for his morning espresso? Aerith had him laughing within minutes. The shy college student who studied in the corner? Aerith offered tips for staying awake during late-night cram sessions.
For Tifa, watching Aerith interact with her customers felt like watching sunlight stream through a window—warm, natural, and utterly captivating.
---
One evening, as the clock neared closing time, Aerith lingered while Tifa wiped down the tables. The café was empty now, save for the two of them, and the quiet felt intimate rather than awkward.
“Do you ever take a break?” Aerith asked, propping her chin on her hand as she watched Tifa work.
Tifa paused, glancing over her shoulder. “Not really. There’s always something that needs to be done.”
Aerith frowned, tilting her head thoughtfully. “That sounds exhausting. Do you ever think about hiring help?”
Tifa shrugged, her expression turning pensive. “I’ve thought about it, but Seventh Heaven is… personal. It’s hard to let someone else take over something you’ve built from the ground up.”
Aerith studied her for a moment, her vibrant personality softening into something gentler. “That must feel like a lot of weight on your shoulders.”
“It is,” Tifa admitted, surprising herself with her honesty. There was something about Aerith’s presence that made it easy to talk, like the ballerina carried her own kind of magic that disarmed Tifa’s usual defenses.
Aerith stood and moved to the counter, leaning against it as she met Tifa’s gaze. “You know, I’ve seen you before.”
Tifa froze, her heart skipping a beat. “What do you mean?”
“At the ballet,” Aerith said, her tone light but her eyes steady. “You’ve been to every performance of Dawn’s Bloom, haven’t you?”
Tifa felt her cheeks heat. “I… yes. I didn’t think you’d notice.”
Aerith smiled, a playful glint in her eyes. “It’s hard not to notice someone who sits in the same seat every time. Besides, you have this way of watching—like you’re really seeing me. Not just the choreography or the costumes, but me.”
Tifa looked down, fumbling for words. “Your performances are incredible. They make me feel… something I can’t really put into words.”
Aerith’s expression softened, her smile turning more sincere. “That’s the best compliment I’ve ever received.”
---
From that night on, their conversations grew deeper. Aerith stayed late whenever she visited, sharing stories about her life as a ballerina—the grueling rehearsals, the moments of doubt, and the joy of losing herself in the art.
“It’s not all as glamorous as it looks,” Aerith confessed one night, stirring the remnants of her tea. “Some days, it feels like I’m just chasing perfection I’ll never reach. But when I’m on stage… it’s worth it. It’s like everything else fades away.”
Tifa listened intently, her arms crossed on the counter as she leaned closer. “I get that. Running this place can be overwhelming, but there are moments—when someone tells me they feel at home here or when I see the regulars smiling—that make it all worth it.”
Aerith tilted her head, her green eyes searching Tifa’s face. “You put so much heart into this place. It’s inspiring.”
Tifa smiled faintly. “Sometimes, though, it feels like I’m stuck. Like I’ve put everything into the café but forgotten how to take care of myself.”
“Maybe it’s time to let someone else take care of you for a change,” Aerith said gently.
Tifa blinked, her breath catching at the sincerity in Aerith’s voice. It was a simple statement, but it hit her in a way she hadn’t expected.
---
By the time Aerith left that niight, Tifa was left with a lot to think about. The ballerina’s presence had become a bright spot in her days, a reminder that life could be more than just routines and responsibilities.
As she locked up the café, Tifa couldn’t help but wonder if Aerith was right—maybe it was time to let someone in.