The following day, Sarah returned to Bookworms Café, her routine as familiar as ever. But today, something felt different. As soon as she stepped through the door, a wave of unease washed over her. The conversation with Clara still gnawed at her, an unsettling reminder she couldn't shake. Sarah had no claim over Ryu—he was a man she barely knew, someone with whom she exchanged casual words over coffee. But Clara… something about her had unsettled Sarah in a way she hadn't expected.
Trying to ignore the gnawing feeling, she walked up to the counter. Ryu was behind it, as usual, his attention absorbed in the pages of Meditations by Marcus Aurelius. The scene was so familiar, so comforting in its quiet consistency. Ryu didn't notice her right away, but when she reached the counter, his eyes flicked up, meeting hers.
"Hey, Sarah," he greeted, his voice smooth and easy, as though he were saying it to a friend he'd known for years. He flashed that effortless smile of his, the one that always seemed to make her heart skip a beat.
"Hey," she replied, managing a half-smile in return. But there was an odd tension in the air. She drew a deep breath, trying to steady herself for the question that had been swirling in her mind ever since yesterday.
"So, um…" Sarah hesitated, her fingers tapping nervously against the side of her cup. "The woman who was here yesterday… Clara, was it?"
Ryu's gaze flicked briefly to her, his brow furrowing just slightly as though trying to recall the name. After a beat, he shrugged casually, as though the entire matter didn't warrant much thought.
"Clara?" he repeated, his tone low and thoughtful. "Yeah, I think she's just a regular customer. I don't really know her name, though."
Sarah blinked, caught off guard by his nonchalance. She had expected some response, but this—this felt… wrong. Was it possible he hadn't even noticed her enough to remember her name?
"You don't know her?" Sarah asked, trying to sound casual, but her voice betrayed her confusion. "She seemed… familiar with you."
Ryu shrugged again, his calm demeanor unwavering. "Eh, people come and go. I don't usually get too attached to customers. They come in for their coffee, I make it—that's all." His words were simple, almost dismissive, as if this whole conversation was of no real consequence.
The simplicity of his answer left Sarah with more questions than she had when she'd walked in. She studied his face, trying to read something—anything—that would give her a hint, some clue as to what was really going on. But his expression was an impassive mask, one that gave away nothing. Just the same blank calm of someone who had seen it all and couldn't care less.
"Right," she murmured softly, her fingers tightening around her cup. She felt foolish now for even asking. Of course, she had no right to pry into his interactions with other women, to question his casual relationships. And yet, the small voice in the back of her mind urged her to press further. But she knew—somewhere deep down—that nothing she said would crack that calm veneer of his.
"Well, I'll just take my usual cappuccino," Sarah added, trying to recover, her voice awkward and tinged with an unease she couldn't entirely shake off. She was trying to act normal, but the question still hung in the air between them.
Ryu smiled again, the same easygoing smile that felt like he was putting her at ease, even if he wasn't aware of the tension he had just created. "Coming right up," he said, his tone returning to its usual casual warmth.
He moved to the espresso machine, and the motion of his hands as he began preparing her drink seemed to erase the weight of their conversation. It was as if the whole exchange had never happened. And maybe, to him, it hadn't.
Sarah watched him work, the routine of his movements oddly calming. She had come here for a cup of coffee, the same as always, and yet today it felt different. There was a heaviness in her chest that wouldn't go away. She had asked the question—she had gotten an answer—but something inside her refused to believe it. Was Ryu truly indifferent, or was there something else? Was Clara really "just another customer," or was Sarah reading too much into it?
Ryu set the cappuccino down in front of her with a soft clink. "Here you go," he said, his voice returning to its usual easygoing tone.
"Thanks," Sarah said, her voice quiet. She took the cup from him, but her mind was elsewhere. She wanted to ask more, to dig deeper, but the words stuck in her throat. His calmness was both comforting and frustrating. It was like trying to understand an enigma wrapped in a riddle.
As she sipped her drink, she glanced at him again. His attention was already back on his book, the weight of their conversation gone from his mind. He had moved on. But Sarah? She was still stuck, lost in a sea of unanswered questions. And despite all her best efforts, the one lingering thought refused to leave her: Clara wasn't just another customer. Not to Sarah, at least. But what did that mean? And why did it make her feel so… unsettled?
For now, she decided not to press him further. Maybe the answers would come with time. Or maybe they never would. But either way, Sarah knew one thing for certain: she was no longer sure of anything when it came to Ryu.