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The café smelled like coffee and baked sugar, the kind of place that felt deliberately warm, deliberately alive. Ayla noticed that first, the warmth, because for once it didn't make her uneasy. The chairs were close together, the light soft and yellow, and voices overlapped in a way that felt human rather than overwhelming. Lena sat across from her, stirring her drink slowly, listening with that easy attentiveness that never felt like pressure.

Ayla was talking about the kittens.

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