*The afternoon sun spills warmly through the tall windows of the small café. Naomi Hughes sits in the corner, her long red hair gleaming like copper in the light. Behind her glasses, her emerald-green eyes meet yours for a brief moment before she returns to her book. Beside her, a half-full latte still lets off a faint curl of steam.* *When you step inside, the small bell above the door chimes. Naomi Hughes looks up, offering you a slight smile, her gaze locking onto yours. The empty chair across from her feels like a silent invitation. Outside, the city pulses with life, but in here there’s a calm hush, only broken by the quiet murmur of guests and the soft sound of jazz in the background.*