Nathan stood in front of the café, staring at the neon sign above the door that flickered intermittently, all he could think of was the surreal reality settling in. His hands gripped the straps of his backpack as he hesitated, thinking about his inheritance, trust fund, penthouse__ the life he had walked away from.
"This is it," he muttered to himself, then pushed the door open, the noise cutting through his thoughts.
The café was a glaring difference to the cool evening air. A few customers sipped their drinks, but the place was quiet. The aroma of freshly ground coffee beans filled the room, blending with the unclear talk of baristas behind the counter. Scarlett, who had been working here for weeks, waved him over from behind the counter. Her smile made him feel a little less out of place.
"You're late," she teased, while busy wiping down the counter and doing some other chores.
"I had to finish a few things I was doing at home." a slight smile heaving at his lips. "At least I'm here now."
She raised an eyebrow, unconvinced by his excuse, but she didn't push it. "Well, you're still on probation. Let's see if you can handle a real day's work."
The weight of her words hanging in the air. It wasn't just about proving to Scarlett that he could do this; it was about proving to himself that he could. He wasn't some pampered heir anymore. He had to work. He needed to earn it.
"Alright," he said firmly, "I can handle it."
She nodded. "First things first—mop the floor. I'll show you the ropes." She moved inside.
Nathan glanced at the bucket and mop she pointed to, then back at Scarlett. There was something determination in her eyes, yet with a hint of pleasure. She wasn't laughing at him, though. She was giving him the chance to prove himself.
The cold reality hit him again as he grabbed the mop and start to work, He couldn't believe he was doing this. Nathan West—sweating behind a counter, scrubbing floors. Scarlett stared at him with amusement as she continue working.
But as Scarlett moved behind the counter, working alongside him, there was something about the simplicity of his new life that felt satisfying. His thoughts wandered to his father—how Richard would have sneered at the sight of his son mopping a café floor.
"Don't worry, you'll get used to it," Scarlett's voice broke through his thoughts. "Yeah, I'm sure," he replied, trying to keep his tone light, but the weigh of his situation was pressing down on him harder than ever.
It's almost afternoon, the café is almost filled up, and soon they starts to work faster than before. Orders piled up on the counter. At first, Nathan he stumbled—forgetting a drink order, spilling a little coffee here and there, broke some glasses—but Scarlett guided him, her instructions short and sharp.
"Two lattes, Nathan. You've can do this."
He watched her with a mixture of admiration and frustration. She was so natural, so confident. He thought to himself "I am the one who had everything handed to me, yet, here I am fumbling like a rookie"
"You're doing fine. Just stay focused," Scarlett said, her voice softer now. Her voice interrupts his thought.
Nathan nodded, gnashing his teeth. He could do this. For the first time, he wasn't just doing something he never thought would be on his to do list.
As the night turned into late evening, Nathan finally got the hang of things. He moved through the routine with less hesitation, his earlier uncertainty now replaced by a sense of accomplishment. The tiredness in his arms was real, and so was the satisfaction of seeing the job done right. His joy mixed with the pain he felt all over his body.
After the last customer left, Scarlett leaned against the counter, watching him as he wiped down the tables and dusts the chairs, moving the buckets and rope to their respective positions..
"Not bad, West," she said, a grin playing on her lips.
He looked up at her, a genuine smile heaving at his lips. "Thanks. I think I'm starting to get the hang of it."
"You're not bad for a rich boy," she teased, throwing the rag into the sink.
Nathan, drops to his sit and laughed out loud unexpectedly. It felt good to be on this side of life, to not be judged by the brand on his shoes or the number of zeros in his bank account. Here, he was just another guy learning the ropes. And for the first time in a long time, he was okay with that.
But as he looked over at Scarlett, something dawdled in the air—something unspoken. She wasn't looking at him with pity or amusement anymore. There was something deeper in her eyes, something like respect.
"Ready to go?" she asked, breaking the silence.
"Yeah," Nathan replied, shaking himself from his thoughts. "Let me grab my stuff."
As he walked toward the back room to pack his things, a sense of pride bloomed inside him. It wasn't just about the work—it was about what he was proving to himself. That he could do it. That he could stand on his own without his father.
But as they stepped outside, a car squealed around the corner, its headlights blinding them for a moment. Nathan's heart skipped a beat when he saw the figure stepping out of the car.
It was his father's lawyer, his face firm, holding a piece of paper.
Nathan froze. "What is it?" he asked, his voice tight.
The lawyer handed him the paper without saying a word. Nathan took it, his hands shaky as he read the eviction notice—three months' rent due in three days or he would have to evacuate the apartment.
"What? How could he do this?" Nathan mumbled, staring at the paper.
Scarlett's hand scrubbed against his arm gently, "You'll figure it out."
But Nathan wasn't so sure anymore. His world had just been turned upside down again. Richard had cut him off once more, this time in a way he couldn't ignore.
As the lawyer turned and walked away, Scarlett's eyes met Nathan's, her expression unreadable. He didn't know what would come next, but he knew one thing for sure: He was on his own now.