30 | ☕ Death Threats and Atlass Ex? ☕
The café had slipped into a quiet lull by mid-afternoon, the kind of calm that only comes after the lunch rush has died down and the last guests have sunk into their own little worlds.
The soft hum of conversation mingled with the gentle clink of China cups, the sound as quiet as the sighing of the old wooden floorboards beneath their feet.
Anya moved in a slow, almost meditative rhythm, her hand swiping the damp cloth across the counter, the movement as familiar as breathing.
Each pass of the rag was soothing, the routine grounding her in a way that seemed almost sacred.
There was something about the soft light streaming in through the windows, and casting long shadows on the floor that made everything fall silent, as if time itself had stopped for a brief moment.
Her eyes wandered around the room, taking in the guests scattered in their usual places — the couple in the corner booth sitting close together as if the outside world didn't exist, the elderly man by the window engrossed in the pages of his newspaper,
and the young woman at the back table near the back, sketching furiously in her notebook.
All of them seemed so far away in that moment, their conversations and actions like background noise to her own thoughts.
The café had always been a refuge for her, a place where she could shed the weight of everything that waited for her outside those doors.
The world beyond was often a storm of emotions, demands, and expectations, but here, in the familiar comfort of the café, Anya could breathe, could simply be.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket.
She pulled it out slowly, her fingers trembling just slightly, expecting to see a message from Kaia. It was Thursday, and they'd been discussing new pastries for the weekend—a small moment of joy in her otherwise scattered week.
But when her screen lit up, it wasn't Kaia's name she saw.
Instead, there was an unknown number, the message notification blinking up at her like a dark omen.
She felt the blood drain from her face, the pleasant hum of the café's background noises suddenly fading into silence.
She didn't want to open it, didn't want to see what was waiting for her.
But she couldn't stop herself. It was as if the message had a pull on her, a gravity that demanded her attention.
Her fingers hesitated for a moment, just long enough for her heart to beat twice in rapid succession. And then, with a quick swipe, she opened the message.
Her stomach dropped. It wasn't a simple text. It wasn't a friendly reminder or a business query. It was a warning, a threat, the words cold and clipped, sharp like a knife.
"Stay away from him. Or else."
Anya blinked, the words blurring before her eyes as she stared at the message, willing it to change, to transform into something else, anything else.
Something benign, something that didn't make her heart race and her stomach twist into tight knots.
Her fingers hovered over the screen, the trembling tips of her fingers betraying her confusion and fear, but no amount of denial could erase the suffocating grip of reality that was rapidly closing in on her chest.
The weight of the message settled in her gut, heavy and oppressive.
It was as if someone had placed a stone there, one that grew heavier with each beat of her heart.
Her pulse quickened, the rhythmic pounding in her ears drowning out the low hum of the café and the faint clink of spoons against mugs.
She was aware of the surrounding noise, the soft murmur of patrons and the distant tap of a spoon against ceramic, but it all felt distant—further away than it had a moment ago.
All that mattered now were the words on the screen.
The message felt like it had carved itself into her mind, a permanent scar.
A cold wave of panic washed over her. She tried to talk herself out of it—maybe it was a prank, a joke—but the thought dissolved almost as soon as it appeared.
The threat was too specific, too personal.
Whoever had sent it knew about Atlas, knew what he meant to her.
And the way they'd phrased it—the cold, calculated tone—it wasn't something you'd send for fun.
No, this wasn't a joke.
Her fingers gripped the phone harder, her pulse quickening as a dark, gnawing feeling spread through her chest.
A threatening message about Atlas, from someone who didn't even have the decency to show their face.
The heat on the back of her neck was a physical thing now, crawling like fire under her skin, and it seemed to scorch away any sense of safety she once had.
But then, just as she thought she could steady her breathing, her phone buzzed again. This time, the screen lit up with another message, more menacing than the last.
"You're not the only one who wants Atlas. If you don't leave him, things will get ugly. For you."
Her breath hitched as her mind raced. What would they do?
What could they do? The threat wasn't just aimed at her—it was aimed at her and Atlas, and the thought twisted her insides.
This wasn't some casual warning. Whoever was behind this had been watching, studying her—them—and now they were taking control.
She could almost hear the voice of the person behind the screen, cold and merciless.
A part of her wanted to shut it all out, to erase the threat and pretend nothing had happened.
But she couldn't. She couldn't unsee the words.
And when her phone buzzed again, that sense of control she'd been clinging to slipped further away.
The next message felt like a slap in the face.
"You think you're safe there? That cosy little café you hide in? It's not going to protect you. If you don't stop seeing him, if you don't leave Atlas, you'll regret it. It'll get much worse than you think."
Her body felt lighter, unsteady, as if she were suddenly adrift in a world she couldn't recognize.
The café, once a sanctuary, had become an unsettling place, as though the walls themselves were closing in, pressing down on her.
She forced herself to look up, eyes darting across the room.
Was someone watching her? Was there anyone who didn't know what was going on?
Her thoughts spun in a rapid whirl of worst-case scenarios. The person behind these messages wasn't playing games. They had an agenda. They had something they were willing to do. And whatever that was, it wasn't going to be pretty.
The phone buzzed again, each new message like a weight crashing onto her chest.
"You won't know when it's coming, but you'll feel it. Think of your quiet little life. It won't last much longer if you don't listen. I'll make sure of it."
Anya's stomach turned. Her breath stilled in her chest. She couldn't imagine the cruelty that someone would need to carry out such threats. Whoever was behind this didn't just want her to stop seeing Atlas. They wanted her scared. And they wanted her to feel like she had no way out.
Her hands went clammy, sweat beginning to form on her palms.
She could barely process it all, the weight of it sinking deeper, gnawing at her.
She couldn't just pretend this was a hoax anymore.
These messages were becoming something else—something far more sinister, and whatever had been left unsaid in the last one hung heavily in the air.
She wasn't just being threatened. Whoever was doing this was promising pain. For her. For Atlas.
The next message was short but terrifying:
"You won't be able to hide forever. You'll learn soon enough just how much you care about him."
The phone dropped from her hands, clattering onto the counter.
She didn't even notice. Her mind was reeling, trying to catch up with the avalanche of threats that had just crashed down on her.
Her heart was pounding in her chest, the sound so loud in her ears that she could hardly hear the conversations around her anymore.
"Anya, you alright?"
Anya snapped her head up at the soft sound of Kaia's voice, her pulse still racing from the barrage of messages she had just received.
For a split second, the world felt unreal, as though the messages had followed her into the real world, creeping into her thoughts, her space.
She blinked, struggling to push the anxiety back into the pit of her stomach where it belonged, trying to focus on the warmth of Kaia's presence instead of the cold grip tightening around her chest.
Kaia stood there, looking at her with concern, her brows furrowed in that familiar, caring way. "You look pale," she said, her voice laced with a softness that made Anya feel even more guilty for trying to hide what she was going through.
Anya shook her head quickly, trying to act normal, to push aside the tightness in her throat. "It's... nothing. Just tired, you know? Busy day." She forced a small, unconvincing smile, hoping Kaia wouldn't ask more questions.
Kaia didn't seem entirely convinced, her gaze lingering a moment longer, but she didn't press.
Instead, she tried to lighten the mood, offering a grin that felt too bright in contrast to Anya's turmoil.
"You should take a break. I got this." Her voice was laced with genuine affection, a little playful, as if offering to take some of the burden off Anya's shoulders.
Anya appreciated the gesture more than Kaia could know, but it didn't erase the gnawing worry at the back of her mind.
The idea of taking a break sounded almost laughable, like there was an escape from what was happening.
An escape. She clenched her jaw. There was no escaping this.
No safe place to hide from the threats that kept coming, each one more chilling than the last.
"I'm fine," Anya said, her voice steadying, even if her heart was still racing. "Thanks, Kaia. I'll take a break soon. Really." She met Kaia's eyes with a forced smile, trying to reassure her.
Kaia didn't look entirely convinced, her eyes narrowing slightly, but she just nodded, her expression softening. "Alright, but if you change your mind, you know where to find me."
A few minutes passed in a blur, the rhythmic hum of the café settling around Anya as she wiped down the counter in a robotic motion, her mind racing.