The date was set two weeks after the phone call.
Saturday. Four o’clock.
Yuma arrived five minutes early.
He told himself it was coincidence, yet his palms were faintly damp as he stepped into Sweet Café. The interior was spacious, decorated in soft pastel tones and fairy-tale motifs—arched windows, hanging lights shaped like lanterns, delicate floral arrangements along the walls.
“Yuma, over here.”
Her voice found him before his eyes did.
Himari was seated near the window, sunlight catching the edge of her hair. She waved casually, as though nothing between them had ever fractured.
Yuma walked towards her, trying not to appear stiff. He sat opposite her.
She smiled.
“It’s been quite some time, hasn’t it?”
He nodded.
“Are you doing alright?”
Another nod.
He admired her composure. While his chest felt tight with nervousness—because he had ignored her, because he had avoided her, because things at home were still unsettled—Himari spoke as if they were simply resuming something paused, not repairing something broken.
She noticed his awkwardness. She chose not to expose it.
“So,” she said lightly, sliding a menu towards him, “what should we try today?”
Yuma opened the menu, though his focus drifted. He had intended to apologise. The words had formed in his head countless times.
I’m sorry for disappearing.
I’m sorry for ignoring you.
But now, seated in front of her, nothing would come out.
Across the table, Himari frowned thoughtfully at the pictures of cakes, then widened her eyes dramatically at one, then pressed her lips together as if debating life’s greatest dilemma. He found himself watching her more than reading the menu.
After several minutes, they closed the menus at the same time.
“Decided?” she asked.
“Yes.”
She scanned the QR code, placed the order—hers first, then his—without ceremony.
While waiting, she leaned back slightly.
“It’s good that we finally met again, isn’t it?”
He nodded.
“Weren’t you busy?” he asked quietly, surprising even himself.
She let out a long sigh.
“Of course I was. Travelling sounds glamorous, but it’s exhausting. Early flights, endless meetings, pretending to be cheerful when you’re dying inside…”
She began telling stories she had never mentioned in her messages—about a delayed presentation, a broken hotel shower, a colleague who spilled coffee on important documents. She complained freely, animated, expressive.
When he used to receive her messages, he had imagined her living easily, lightly.
He had been wrong.
Listening to her in person was different. Her hands moved when she spoke. Her brows furrowed, her smile widened. It was strangely comforting.
“And that concludes today’s life report,” she said with mock seriousness.
Their orders arrived.
Passion fruit iced tea for Yuma. Fraise strawberry for Himari.
Chocolate fudge cake, chocolate mousse cake, strawberry lava cake, strawberry jelly cake, a choco fountain cake, and an extra strawberry honey waffle that Himari had added impulsively.
The table looked excessive.
Himari immediately began taking photos.
“For documentation,” she declared solemnly.
They started eating.
Conversation shifted naturally towards Yuma. Work. A difficult project. Minor frustrations with colleagues. He spoke cautiously at first, then more steadily. Not about his family. Never about his family.
Himari did not ask.
They exchanged spoonfuls of cake, offering silent evaluations of texture and sweetness. The honey waffle surprised him—it was warm, fragrant, unexpectedly perfect.
They were uncomfortably full by the end.
While waiting for their stomachs to settle, Himari suddenly brightened.
“Let’s take a photo.”
Yuma stiffened.
Photographs carried memories he did not enjoy revisiting.
“This is rare,” she coaxed gently. “We should frame this moment.”
Because it was her, he agreed.
First, a selfie across the table. Then she moved to sit beside him, their shoulders nearly touching. Both were acutely aware of the proximity.
Finally, she asked a staff member to take a proper photograph.
Two hours passed almost unnoticed.
Outside the café, evening light softened the streets.
“Thank you for today,” Himari said sincerely.
He nodded.
“Let’s do this again,” she added. “It doesn’t have to be long. Even fifteen minutes. Ice cream. A short chat.”
“Okay,” he said easily.
The answer surprised him with how natural it felt.
Being with Himari did not exhaust him.
It did not require effort.
It was simply… warm.
No comments:
Post a Comment