But it’s not about the cafe anymore. It’s about her. The scent hit me the second I walked through the door, sweet, warm, familiar. Sticky rice, caramelised sugar. For a split second, I’m sixteen again, sitting on that sun-warmed bench while she shares her lunch with me.
Warm nian gao, nervous eyes, soft smiles.
She made me feel seen, like I wasn’t just some invisible kid from the wrong side of town. The cake was good. But she was better.
That’s what the nian gao is, a piece of her. A piece of us. A lifeI haven’t let myself think about in years and now I’m standing here, watching her across the counter, trying to buy it off her like some rich prick.
£50 then £100, £200.
Everyone in my world has a price. Everyone. Deals, negotiations, contracts, it’s just a matter of numbers. But her?
She didn’t budge.
Maybe a part of me wanted her to. Wanted her to be like everyone else, just so I could stop feeling like she’s the only person I can’t get under control.
But she’s not like them.
That’s what makes me want her more than anything.
8
Lila
The cafe hums with life, the scent of fresh roses, eucalyptus, and lilies mingling with coffee and the faint aroma of cinnamon. Vases clutter the worktables, half-finished bouquets in various stages of completion for Sophie and Marcus’s charity gala.
Maeve perches on a stool, her tiny tongue sticking out in concentration as she draws tulips on small cards. Her red and yellow flowers dance across the paper with surprising precision for a four-year-old.
“They’re tulips,” Maeve announces proudly, holding one up. “Mummy says they’re special for people with Parkinson’s.”
“They are,” I say, crouching next to her. “You’re doing an amazing job.”
Olivia leans down to kiss her daughter’s head. “She’s been obsessed with tulips and their meanings lately.”
“Because tulips are magic,” Maeve says seriously, like she’s revealing the secret to the universe.
The bell on the cafe door jingles, and my mum bustles in from the back, balancing a tray of freshly steamed baos and a pot of tea. “Lila, have you even offered your friends anything?Honestly, what kind of hostess are you?”
I sigh, but before I can reply, Sophie perks up. “Auntie Mei, you always know exactly what we need.” I don’t miss the warmth that blooms in my chest at the way they call her that, like she’s theirs too. Like family. It’s been years since I had a support system outside Mum. My old friends moved on, different cities, different lives and for a long time, I thought that part of my world was done.
When I first joined Books That Bang, it was just meant to be a fun escape. A place to meet people who actually liked reading spicy books like me, nothing more. I never imagined I’d find such a great bunch of women, funny, fierce, loyal, who somehow feel like home. Like I belong again.
Mum beams, setting the tray down in the centre of the table. “Of course, you girls work too hard. You need to eat!” She starts pouring tea with practiced precision, already fussing over Maeve, who’s kneeling on a chair, doodling intensely on a stack of cards.
“Are those tulips, sweetheart?” Mum asks, brushing Maeve’s curls out of her face.
Maeve nods, her little hands gripping a crayon. “Tulips mean hope,” she says matter-of-factly. Sophie reaches over, giving Maeve’s tiny hand a gentle squeeze. “That’s right, sweetheart. My dad is going to love them.”
Olivia presses a kiss to the top of Maeve’s head. “When she heard about the tulip’s symbol, she wanted to make these for the event.”
I glance at the stack of handmade cards spread across the table, each one decorated with Maeve’s careful crayon work, bright tulips in shades of red, yellow, and pink. “They’re beautiful,” I say honestly. “We’ll make sure they go on everytable.”
Maeve grins, clearly pleased with herself, then turns her attention back to her masterpiece. Mum starts refilling cups like she’s hosting a formal tea ceremony. “You all work so hard for this event, you need your strength.” Then, her eyes narrow slightly as she turns to me. “Lila, don’t think I haven’t noticed you barely eating today.”
“Mum—”
She clucks her tongue, placing a bao directly on my plate. “Eat.”
Willow smothers a laugh behind her cup. Olivia shoots me a teasing look. “I think that was a direct order.”
