The afternoon sun blazed overhead, draping the narrow lane in gold. Amid the chaos of honking autos and chattering pedestrians, Brewed Bliss stood like a soft breath — its vintage teal signage and ivy-framed windows radiating quiet charm.

Just outside the cafe entrance, Yahvi stood with a clipboard in one hand and a crate of wilted spinach in the other. Her brow was drawn tight in frustration, but her stance was firm, grounded.