The man lifted his gaze. His eyes were a deep brown, but they were drowning in anguish.
“A black coffee,” he answered in a rough, hoarse tone, as if he hadn’t spoken in days. “And a glass of water, please.”
Renata nodded, wrote down the order, and returned to the counter. As the coffee machine hissed softly, she watched him through the reflection in the mirror. He remained completely still, staring at the phone screen as though his life depended on a single message. When the coffee was ready, she placed the cup on a tray and walked back to the table.
“Here’s your coffee. If you need anything else, I’m at your service,” she said, turning to leave.
“Wait,” he suddenly interrupted.
Renata paused and looked back. He was staring at her with a desperate intensity that made her instinctively take a small step back. The man inhaled deeply, closed his eyes for a moment as if gathering the courage to cross an invisible line, and finally spoke.
“I just received some news… terrible news,” her voice broke, revealing her vulnerability. “I need a favor. I know it’s going to sound crazy, I know you don’t know me, but… could you hug me? Just for two minutes.”
Renata’s heart skipped a beat. She glanced around. The café was almost empty; Doña Estela, the owner, was busy in the kitchen.
“Sir, I… I don’t know if this is the right thing to do,” she hesitated, holding the tray tightly against her chest.
He slowly stood up. He was tall, with a strong presence that sharply contrasted with his emotional fragility.
“I swear on everything sacred, I won’t hurt her. I just need to feel that I’m not alone right now,” he pleaded, his eyes shimmering with tears. “They just told me that my mother…” He swallowed hard. “She had a stroke. She’s in the emergency room. The doctors don’t know if she’ll make it through the night.”
A wave of pure empathy pierced Renata’s chest. She knew that cold emptiness. Three years earlier, she had held her own mother’s hand as cancer slowly took her away. She remembered the crushing helplessness, the silent prayers to heaven for a miracle, the feeling that the entire world was collapsing while everyone around her continued living as if nothing had happened. Looking at the man before her, she didn’t see a millionaire or a dangerous stranger. She saw a frightened son—a human being desperately searching for comfort.
He stepped forward hesitantly and opened his arms. Renata closed the distance and wrapped him in a sincere, protective embrace. She felt his body shake uncontrollably against hers. She could hear the frantic rhythm of his heartbeat and sense the contrast between the fragrance of his expensive cologne and the cold sweat of pure panic. They remained there, motionless in the middle of the café, as if time itself had paused. Renata didn’t speak; she knew that during moments of profound pain, words become unnecessary. In her thoughts, she offered a silent prayer for the stranger’s mother, asking God to grant her peace and healing. She gave him the only refuge she could offer: human warmth and genuine compassion.
When the two minutes passed, he slowly stepped back, wiping his damp eyes with the back of his hand.
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