A week had passed since Sarah last stepped foot in Bookworms Café, and as she walked by the familiar brick building on a quiet Tuesday morning, it felt like the café was slipping further and further into the background of her life. She'd kept herself busy, distracted by work and the occasional evening out, but there was always that part of her that kept drifting back to it—the comforting atmosphere, the way time seemed to slow inside those walls, and, most of all, Ryu.
Her mind had wandered to him more than she liked to admit. His quiet presence, the way he moved so deliberately behind the counter, lost in his task. There was something magnetic about it, an intensity that made it impossible for her to simply forget about him. Even his aloofness, which had first confused her, had begun to feel like an unspoken invitation—an enigmatic pull that she couldn't seem to escape.
So here she was again, standing in front of the café, her heart quickening despite her best efforts to remain unaffected. She wasn't sure why she was feeling nervous; after all, it wasn't as if they'd had any meaningful conversation beyond the occasional exchange about coffee. But the door swung open, and the familiar scent of freshly brewed coffee instantly washed over her, like a quiet promise. The rush of excitement in her chest was undeniable.
And then she saw him.
Ryu was behind the counter, his back to her as he prepared an order with the same smooth, effortless precision that she remembered. He hadn't noticed her yet, but there was something in the way he moved, a quiet energy in the room that only he seemed to create. It was subtle, but unmistakable. The space around him seemed to shift ever so slightly, like the world had tilted just enough to acknowledge his presence.
Her pulse quickened, but she couldn't let it show. She wasn't the kind of person to let emotions spill over, especially not in a place like this. Not for someone she barely knew—yet someone she couldn't stop thinking about.
Ryu turned at the sound of the door, his dark eyes meeting hers. His lips quirked into a small, knowing smile, the one that seemed to leave her breathless each time. "You're back," he said, his voice a familiar drawl, though there was something warmer in it now, something less guarded.
Sarah couldn't help but feel a wave of relief wash over her, though she didn't fully understand why. "Yeah," she replied, her voice steadier than she felt. "I was just about to ask if you were ever coming back."
Ryu chuckled softly, his tone still light, but with an underlying sense of something unsaid. "Had to take care of some things. Work, you know."
As he spoke, Sarah's gaze drifted instinctively, something pulling her to the details of his face. That was when she saw it—a faint scar just above his left eyebrow. It wasn't large, but it was noticeable, and, despite the casual way he brushed it off, Sarah could tell it was fresh, the skin still holding the subtle redness of a wound that had only recently healed.
Her curiosity got the better of her before she could stop it. "What happened?" she blurted out, before quickly trying to retract the question. "Did you get hurt?"
Ryu's smile didn't falter, though it seemed to shift just slightly, a hint of something unreadable flickering in his eyes. "I bumped my head," he answered, his tone so casual it was almost too perfect. "Nothing serious."
Sarah nodded, but her eyes lingered on the scar. There was something about it that didn't add up—something in the way he said it that made her think there was more to the story. But she didn't push. Not yet.
Before she could ask anything further, Ryu turned to grab a coffee pot from the counter, and Sarah's attention shifted to something else entirely. His shirt—a simple, loose-fitting gray tee—seemed so ordinary at first glance. But as he moved, something subtle but undeniable caught her eye. The fabric stretched across his broad shoulders and tapered waist, revealing a body that was far more defined than she had noticed before. His arms, while not overly muscular, had a quiet strength to them, a tone that spoke of someone who worked hard, who moved often, whose body was shaped by action, not effortful exercise.
Sarah had never really looked at him like this before. She had always seen him as just a guy behind the counter, distant, professional. But now? Now, with him so close, she saw something more—something she hadn't fully recognized until this very moment.
She quickly turned her attention back to the counter, trying to steady herself, but the warmth that had suddenly bloomed on her cheeks wasn't easily dismissed. Get it together, she told herself. It's just a guy making coffee.
But the heat in the café wasn't just from the coffee anymore. It was the way the air shifted around them, the subtle electricity between them that couldn't be ignored. Ryu moved with such ease, his focus so absolute, that it was impossible for her not to notice how everything about him seemed to draw her in.
He placed a cappuccino in front of her, the steam swirling up in delicate tendrils. "There you go," he said, his smile still soft, more genuine than she'd seen before.
"Thanks," Sarah replied, her voice steady but her heart not quite keeping up. She took the cup in her hands, feeling its warmth seep into her fingers. The coffee was as perfect as always, but today, it felt... different. More comforting. More alive. Or maybe it was just him, just the way he made everything seem so effortlessly meaningful.
"So, are you back for good now?" she asked, her voice dipping into casual curiosity, though her mind raced with unspoken questions.
"For now," Ryu answered with a shrug, his eyes briefly meeting hers before he turned to make another drink. "I'll be around."
Sarah watched him work in silence, her mind buzzing with the questions she couldn't ask, the things she couldn't say. What had he been doing while he was away? What was the story behind the scar? And why did it feel like every time she saw him, there was always something new to discover, something that made her want to understand him better?
The questions lingered in her mind, but for now, she had no answers. Instead, she just sat there, quietly sipping her coffee, and let the warmth—of the drink, of the moment, of something unspoken—settle in.