It was the third day in a row that Sarah found herself walking into Bookworms Café, though she hadn't consciously planned to return. Somehow, it had become a habit—a routine she hadn't fully acknowledged. Maybe it was the warmth of the place, the way the scent of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the faint musk of old books. Or perhaps it was the soft hum of conversations that never grew too loud, never demanded too much. It felt like a hidden pocket of the world where time slowed just enough for her to breathe.
But if she were honest with herself, it wasn't just the atmosphere. It was Ryu.
She noticed him before she even stepped inside. Through the large glass window, she saw him behind the counter, his hands moving with practiced precision as he worked. There was a deliberateness in his movements, a quiet focus that made her pause at the door. He wasn't just making coffee. He was crafting something. There was an art to it, a kind of reverence in the way he handled each step.
The little bell above the door jingled softly as she pushed it open, the scent of roasted beans wrapping around her in an immediate embrace. She made her way to the counter, drawn to him in a way that felt both inevitable and unspoken.
Ryu glanced up from the counter as she approached, his expression calm, unreadable, yet tinged with a familiarity she couldn't quite place.
"Hey," he greeted, his voice as smooth and steady as his hands.
"Hey," she echoed, sliding onto one of the barstools. No plans, no real reason to be here, except for the fact that she wanted to be.
"What can I get you today?" he asked, setting down a polished steel milk pitcher, his fingers absently tapping against the counter as he waited for her answer.
Sarah hesitated, then tilted her head, considering. "Surprise me."
Something flickered in his dark eyes, something thoughtful. He studied her for a moment, then nodded slightly before turning to the shelves of coffee beans behind him. "You like trying new things?"
She shrugged, a small smile playing on her lips. "Why not?"
Ryu reached for a bag of beans, his touch deliberate. "Ethiopian coffee," he said, as if the words carried weight. "Ever had it before?"
Sarah leaned forward slightly, intrigued. "I don't think so. What makes it special?"
Ryu's eyes softened as he picked up the bag. "Ethiopia is where coffee originally comes from. The beans are grown at high altitudes, and they have this really unique, fruity taste with a floral undertone. They're grown in small, family-owned farms, and the process is mostly done by hand. It's a labor of love."
She listened, caught not just by his words but by the quiet passion behind them. He didn't just know coffee; he understood it, respected it. There was something undeniably captivating about that.
Without another word, he began the process, pulling out a manual grinder and measuring the beans with precise care. The rhythmic sound of grinding filled the space between them, oddly soothing, like the gentle turning of a page. He worked methodically, not rushing, each movement intentional.
"Most people go for espresso or cappuccinos," he murmured, not looking up. "But pour-over lets you taste everything—every note, every subtlety. It's pure."
Sarah rested her chin in her hand, watching him as he set a pristine white filter into the dripper. He poured the grounds in with a measured motion, then lifted the kettle, his wrist tilting just enough to release a slow, steady stream of water. The bloom was instant, the rich aroma intensifying as the coffee swelled and released its essence.
She found herself mesmerized by the process, by the way he poured in concentric circles, by the patience in his every movement. There was something magnetic about him, something that made everything else fade into the background. She barely noticed the other patrons, the gentle hum of conversation. It was just Ryu, the coffee, and the quiet intimacy of the moment.
He glanced up, catching her gaze, his lips twitching into a barely-there smile. "You look like you're really into this."
Sarah flushed slightly, realizing how intently she'd been watching him. "Sorry. I just… never thought about coffee like this before."
His smile deepened, just a fraction. "It's not just about drinking it. It's an experience."
The final drops fell into the cup, dark and rich with a hint of amber at the edges. Ryu picked it up and slid it toward her, his fingers lingering just a second longer than necessary.
Sarah wrapped her hands around the warm ceramic and lifted it to her lips. The taste was unlike anything she'd expected—smooth, subtly sweet, laced with a delicate fruitiness that lingered on her tongue. She closed her eyes briefly, savoring it.
"Wow," she murmured. "This is amazing."
Ryu leaned against the counter, arms crossed, his expression unreadable but his eyes carrying a quiet satisfaction. "I'm glad you think so."
She met his gaze, something stirring in her chest. There was more to him than what he showed, layers she wanted to uncover. The way he spoke, the way he moved, the way he treated coffee as something sacred—it made her curious about everything else he might be passionate about. About who he really was beneath the quiet exterior.
For a moment, he held her gaze, then glanced down, returning to the book resting on the counter beside him. The corners of his lips lifted ever so slightly as he turned a page. "Enjoy it," he said, but somehow, it felt like an invitation to more than just the coffee.
And Sarah, with a quiet smile of her own, knew she would.