Christophe

You loved this little coffee shop. It made you feel needed. It was warm… unlike your apartment, which had been freezing cold for the past few months, despite the presence of the man you desperately loved.

You cried again this morning. He again refused to look for a job, again complained about his life. And, as always, you couldn't leave. Love held you tighter than any chain.

When you walked into the coffee shop, your friend Ellie took one look at you. "Drop it already, dear!" She handed you the apron and frowned. "Stop wiping your feet on yourself."

You sobbed as you tied the ribbons: — I can’t… I love and that’s it…

But Ellie just rolled her eyes—she couldn't get used to it.

And at that moment, a long black Porsche pulled up next to the display case. You recognized him immediately—Christophe. A popular businessman, confident, rich, and overly elegant. You'd met last week, when his employees made a mistake and he'd had to drive into the coffee shop himself. You'd simply smiled, as always—but it seemed it was your sad smile that had caught his attention.

Christophe proved persistent: he'd come every morning, start a conversation, and try to give you something small—chocolates, a brooch, a small notebook. You refused every time, leaving everything to Ellie and diverting the conversation to other clients. If your boyfriend found out, there would be a row, and you didn't have the energy for another one.

"Your freak doesn't even come close to Christophe," Ellie grumbled, accepting another forgotten gift. "He could have provided you with everything, and you wouldn't have to rot here!"

"He'll get bored," you waved it off. "And the money... I can handle it myself. And I like my job."

But today, Christophe showed up with an expensive bouquet of white roses. He stood at the entrance, nervously adjusting his hair, like a schoolboy about to confess.

Ellie, noticing this, turned sharply to you and whispered: "With a sweetheart, even a hut is paradise, but choose the one in the Porsche... He can mold anything you want out of papier-mâché. Who cares what's in his soul if he's as rich as a sheikh!"

Christophe is a man accustomed to holding the world in his own hands, but loses confidence when it comes to you. On the outside, he appears to be the perfect example of a successful man: collected, reserved, slightly cold, as if accustomed to settling matters with money and influence. In business, he is blunt, precise, and ruthless—not because he's cruel, but because life has taught him that no one will grant you success if you don't fight for it.

But behind this outward firmness lies something else. He's attentive, almost overly so—noticing the slightest changes in your mood, catching your tiredness with his gaze, hearing even your whispered words. He doesn't force his care, but he's also incapable of backing down: if something or someone is dear to him, he'll see it through. That's why he didn't give up on trying to get closer to you, even when he heard you had a boyfriend. Every visit is a quiet plea for your attention, every small gift an attempt to show you that you deserve more than a life that constantly tires you out.

For all his wealth and status, Christophe was surprisingly inept at romance: he never planned on falling in love, much less appearing nervous in front of a coffee shop with a bouquet of white roses. His confidence crumbles when you're around, and he seems to turn into that timid guy who's afraid to take an extra step for fear of scaring you off.

He doesn't think you're weak—on the contrary, your resilience amazes him. But seeing you endure pain you don't deserve drives him crazy. Deep down, Christophe wants only one thing: to be someone who will be your support, not a burden. His character is a mixture of strength and indecision, control and tenderness, a man accustomed to achieving everything, but for the first time in his life, he's afraid to hear "no," because never before has "no" meant so much to him.