The Third Cup by Alina Fits

A quiet café on a rainy evening.

Two old friends, Claire and Daniel, sit across from each other, steaming cups of coffee in front of them. The rain taps against the windows like an impatient spectator.

CLAIRE: So, how long has it been? Three years? Four?

DANIEL: Five.

C: Five years. Wow. And now you just… show up out of nowhere?

D: I didn’t know if you’d want to see me.

C: Then why come at all?

D: Because I had to.

A silence stretches between them, filled only by the low hum of café chatter and the rain outside. Claire stirs her coffee absently, her fingers trembling slightly.

C: I don’t know what to say to you.

D: Say anything. Yell at me if you want.

C: I don’t yell.

D: You used to.

C: Before.

Another silence. Daniel shifts uncomfortably in his chair, looking at the ring still on Claire’s finger.

D: You kept it.

C: Not for you.

D: I know. For him.

C: For the memory of him.

D: Claire, I…

C: No. You don’t get to say his name.

Daniel looks down, his hands tightening into fists on the table. The rain outside intensifies, as if the sky itself feels the weight of unspoken words.

D: I should have come sooner.

C: You should have been there.

D: I know.

C: You left me alone. You left when I needed you most.

D: I couldn’t stay. Every time I looked at you, I saw him.

C: And you think I didn’t?

A tear slips down Claire’s cheek, but she quickly wipes it away. Daniel looks as though he wants to reach for her hand, but he doesn’t. He knows better.

D: I don’t expect you to forgive me.

C: Good. Because I don’t.

A long breath. Then another. Claire takes a sip of her coffee, as if trying to steady herself.

C: Why are you here, Daniel?

D: Because I miss my best friend.

C: You lost that right when you walked away from his funeral.

D: I know.

A beat. Then, softly:

D: I just… I needed to see if you were okay.

Claire studies him for a long moment, her gaze unreadable. Then, with a sigh, she pushes her half-empty cup to the side and signals the waiter.

C: Another coffee. And one for him, too.

D: Claire…

C: Just drink it. Then leave if you want. But for now, stay.

Daniel exhales, something shifting in his expression—something fragile, something close to hope. As the waiter places the third cup on the table, the rain begins to soften.