Chapter 3: The Brewed Haven

Kafka sat in her single seater chair, a Japanese contemporary style bentwood chair she purchased at Muji to complement her interior, right in front of a two piece floor to ceiling window, where she engulfed herself with the early morning warmth and the half empty cup of caramel latte.

She lived just right above her café. The building was a former jewelry boutique. She didn’t change much of the exterior but she did a lot in the interior, it’s three storey with modern cream-white paint exterior, just to her taste.

What she did with this place was one of her firsts here in New York. She renovated the interior to her taste, self-renovated and she was the proudest when it was finished. She had never renovated a house before, she wasn’t even sure how to screw or hammer. Well, everything can be learned, and there’s YouTube, too.

The Brewed Haven, the hum of New York City life filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows. The early morning light streamed in, casting a warm glow over the vintage furniture, lush indoor plants, and posters of various European locales. She loved this place. It was her sanctuary and a testament to her independence and determination.

It was before the opening time of her cafe. She was on the phone with her brother, Envy, who had always been her rock. “So, how’s business?” Envy’s voice crackled through the line, a comforting sound that made her feel closer to home.

“Busy, as usual. Which is a good thing.” Kafka replied, leaning back in her armchair. “The Brewed Haven has become quite the cozy spot for the locals. I think people really appreciate the vintage charm and the relaxed atmosphere here, and I’ve got reviews on my coffee, almost.”

Envy chuckled. “I knew it would be a hit. You’ve always had an eye for creating inviting spaces and by what do mean by almost, your coffee is the best of the best.” Envy really knows how to make her day.

“Thanks, En. I couldn’t have done it without you,” Kafka said, her voice sincere. “This place is perfect, It’s everything I dreamed of and it’s all thanks to you. I should’ve done this years ago.” She remembers her bitter life, a constant everyday event following orders from her mother like a mad dog back in London. She should’ve done this right after graduating from college, there’d be no problem finding a job here, she’s smart and very analytical. She is the top of her class. Her credits will back her up just fine. She smiled a bitter smile, Envy can’t see her so it was fine but it was in her voice, the sadness and regret.

Envy’s tone softened. “I’m glad you’re happy, Kafka and I always hope you’ll be for the rest of your life.” There was a pause, and seconds later she heard a teasing laugh “I mean at least the hard part was over,” she heard Envy laugh again from the other line and it made her laugh, too. She knew what he was talking about, the renovation was the hardest part. She earned scars here and there throughout, it was hell. Decorating the place was the vanilla of her latte, she got the furniture from Muji, most of them. Some were commissioned and customized, it was a piece of cake and she earned zero scars throughout the process. She smiled remembering it all, it was just a month ago but it felt like a while. “I really like seeing you living your life and being happy, I couldn’t really see it when you’re still here.” Envy added.

“I couldn’t have stayed there any longer,” Kafka said, a hint of sadness in her voice. “Mum never understood. She wanted to mold me into her image, but I just wanted to,” she paused and gathered all the memories when she was just dreaming her life now", brewed coffee and baked pastries. Make people smile.” She finished.

Envy sighed. “I know, and I love you for that. Mum has always been set in her ways. But I’m proud of you for standing up for yourself. It wasn’t easy, but you did it.”

Kafka smiled, feeling a rush of gratitude for her brother’s unwavering support. “And you found this place for me. I still remember the first time I saw it.”

“I knew it was the right place for you,” Envy said. “It had potential, and look at what you’ve made of it.”

The nine months of renovation had been grueling, but Kafka had poured her heart and soul into transforming the space. It had taken another five months to create a café and home that truly felt like hers. She moved right after the interior remodeling was complete and it was up to her to do the rest, which is a mixture of swelling index finger or scratches from flying nails. It was fun, except when she fell once trying to screw a bulb. It's an experience and she took it all to her heart.

“Thank you, En,” Kafka said, her voice thick with emotion. “I don’t think I say it enough, but I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me.”

“You don’t have to thank me, Kafka. You’re my family. I’d do anything for you,” Envy replied warmly. “Just promise me you’ll visit soon.”

Kafka sighed “ Bye, En.”

“Bye, sweetheart.” Envy said gently. “I’m always at arms reach.”

As they said their goodbyes, Kafka felt a sense of peace settle over her. Her relationship with her mother was strained, but she had found her own path, thanks to Envy’s support.

She glanced around her apartment, taking in the cozy, eclectic décor. The plants were thriving, and the posters on the walls were a constant reminder of her love for travel and adventure. This place was truly hers, a sanctuary away from the expectations and pressures of her past life.

Kafka made her way downstairs to the café, ready to start the day. Making sure the cafe was clean and ready for today’s coffee goers and of course, her day won’t be complete without reciting her mantra, and that she did as she made the outside of her paradise neat and inviting.

The Brewed Haven was already beginning to fill with the morning crowd. She loved seeing the familiar faces of her regulars and the occasional new customer drawn in by the inviting atmosphere.

She was in the middle of preparing a fresh batch of pastries when the door chime signaled the arrival of another customer. Glancing up, she saw the butler from across the street entering, his usual composed demeanor in place.

“Good morning, sir,” Kafka greeted him with a smile. “The usual?”

“Yes, please,” he replied, his eyes crinkling in a rare smile. “Seven shots, no sugar.”

Kafka prepared his coffee with the precision she knew he appreciated. As she handed it to him, she couldn’t help but ask, “Your employer, Mr. Greed, he seems quite particular. Is he always like that?”

The butler chuckled softly. “Mr. Greed has high standards, yes. He’s very dedicated to his work.”

Kafka nodded, her curiosity piqued, she hesitated but asked eventually “He mentioned my name yesterday. I never told him. How did he know?” It’s silly but it has been in her mind all night long and it’s the main cause she had to put on an extra layer of concealer to hide the dark bags below her eyes. So, she needs an answer.

The butler’s smile deepened. “Mr. Greed is very observant. He takes note of the details around him, especially in this neighborhood.” She was expecting a different answer but this one’s enough to slightly calm down her ever growing curiosity to the luxury men suit owner right across the street.

As the butler left, Kafka couldn’t help but feel a mixture of intrigue and frustration. Greed remained an enigma, his stern exterior hiding whatever lay beneath. She watched through the large windows as the butler crossed the street and entered Die Böse Jungen. No sign of creeping Greed this time. Disappointed, she turned her attention to the new arrivals.

During the months of renovation, Kafka had often found herself watching the comings and goings at the luxury tailoring shop across the street. She would always see a black Rolls-Royce Phantom arrive at exactly 9 am, exactly 9 in the morning, and would reveal the old gentleman from the driver side, he would then proceed to the other side and would open the door of the passenger side revealing a beautiful man in a luxurious suit, Greed. Greed had always fascinated her, though they had never spoken. She is curious, it’s her nature, so she surfed the internet, gathered information about the shop across, or about the owner, from her place. She found pictures of Greed mostly from different business events, information about him, surface information about his personal life and professional life, from various websites, including the official website for Die Böse Jungen. She would find herself lost looking at one of Greed’s pictures attached to the official website, ‘Greedonvil Alaric Beauregard Schneider.’ Kafka read, in his signature blue single-breasted suit, a very classic look she found to be very charming; it suits his ocean blue eyes. Very charming, indeed. Moments would pass and she'd beat herself because of it, she is no better than a stalker but she disregards this as her, ‘researching about the area where she’ll be starting a cafe in’. It’s a market research, ‘a market research!’

Greed occupied her head even before he came to know her, because of the sugar incident. There was something about the way he carried himself, his sharp features and impeccable style, that drew her attention. It was annoyingly similar to how her brother would dress, though her brother bore no rough personality. Envy is a well spoken gentleman. She had also noticed how Greed would occasionally glance at her place and sometimes he would linger his eyes towards her building, as if searching for something, and it intrigued her, fueling her curiosity.

I guess it's safe to say now that she is, indeed, bearing a little crush over the business owner across from her cafe, and she would deny this in her head over and over until Greed stormed in her cafe looking so godly and beautiful, like a furious Greek god in a tailored suit.

Later that day, as she was closing up the café, Kafka noticed a sleek black car, the Rolls-Royce she's very familiar with, pull up in front of the tailoring shop. Greed emerged from his shop, his sharp features highlighted by the setting sun. He spoke briefly with his butler before getting into the car and driving away.

Kafka stood there for a moment, watching the car disappear down the street. She hadn’t met Greed, which was the only thing she's looking forward to all day. She thought Greed would grab a caramel latte like yesterday. Maybe yesterday was just his way of professionally handling misunderstandings with co-business owners around the area. She shook her head. That couldn't be the case. Yesterday, Greed was different from the Greed who stormed into her cafe. She shook her head again, this time trying her best to think about other stuff but Greed. Still, there's Greed in her mind, her ocean blue eyes. She just noticed it, but those eyes were lighter yesterday than the first time she had a closer look at them. His presence lingered in her mind. She couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to him than met the eye and she is extremely determined to unravel his world of mystery. She has no idea how, though. She’ll try her very best, they spoke twice now, ‘I think it’s a good start.’ she uttered to herself.

With a sigh, she locked up the café and headed upstairs. As she settled into her Muji armchair, her thoughts drifted to her brother and their conversation. Envy had always believed in her, even when she doubted herself. And now, she was beginning to see that maybe, just maybe, Greed’s harsh exterior concealed a complexity she hadn’t yet uncovered.

Kafka leaned back, letting the day’s events wash over her. She had built a life for herself here, away from her mother’s control and filled with the freedom she had always craved. And despite the challenges, she knew she was exactly where she was meant to be.

Tomorrow would bring another day of brewing coffee, baking pastries, and perhaps, another encounter with the mysterious Greed. For now, she was content to sit in her cozy apartment, surrounded by the warmth and comfort of her carefully curated space.

As she drifted off to sleep, Kafka couldn’t help but wonder what lay beneath Greed’s stern exterior. She had a feeling that their paths were intertwined in ways she couldn’t yet comprehend. But for now, she was happy to let the mystery unfold, one day at a time. Or, seven shots of espresso at a time. No sugar.