Isamu’s routine had returned to its usual monotony, but thoughts of Sara lingered like an uninvited guest in the corners of his mind. It wasn’t just her sudden call that had left its mark, though that had certainly piqued his curiosity. It was the way her laughter seemed to bring light to the otherwise dull world he inhabited. Even when their conversation had taken a turn toward deeply personal matters, her sincerity had been disarming.

In the days that followed, Isamu’s life blurred into a ceaseless stream of high-level meetings, press conferences, and endless phone calls. Yet, in the rare quiet moments, Sara’s words echoed in his mind, pulling at something buried deep within him. Late at night, when exhaustion seeped into his bones, he found himself revisiting her rants, her infectious energy a balm to his otherwise dreary days.

Today, however, was different. As Isamu prepared for another round of back-to-back meetings, his secretary entered his office with a small frown.

“Fujin-sama,” she began hesitantly, “there’s a call for you... it’s her again.”
“Her?” Isamu raised an eyebrow.
“Shiraishi-san,” the secretary clarified, looking slightly bewildered.
A faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “Put her through.”

The line clicked, and Sara’s voice filled the room, bright and unrestrained.
“Daichi-san! I’m in a bit of a pickle,” she announced, her tone carrying a hint of mischief.
Leaning back in his chair, Isamu set down his pen. “What happened this time?”

“Well,” Sara began, mock-serious, “remember how I told you about my brilliant idea to open a café? I found the perfect location. But there’s a problem—the landlord is—gasp!  completely unreasonable! He won’t budge on the rent. Can you believe it? I thought landlords were supposed to be flexible!”
A soft chuckle escaped Isamu. “You’ve certainly come to the right person for advice.”
Sara paused, her voice suddenly playful. “Wait a second. Aren't you a landlord, too?”
“Something like that,” Isamu replied, the amusement clear in his tone.
“Hah! I remembered it,” Sara exclaimed, then lowered her voice conspiratorially. “Let me guess—you’re one of those old-school landlords, huh? Stern and grumpy, with a monocle and a cane?”

Isamu raised an eyebrow, though his tone remained light. “Old-school, you say? And what exactly makes you think I’m old?”
“Well, your voice does have that deep, mysterious vibe,” Sara teased. “Very distinguished. Very wise. Like someone who’s seen it all.”

“And yet,” Isamu countered smoothly, “you sound like someone who jumps to conclusions. What age would you peg me at, then?”

“Hmm... forty-five? Maybe fifty?” she ventured, her tone deliberately exaggerated.
“Fifty?” Isamu repeated, his voice laced with mock offense. “What gave it away? The wisdom in my words or the supposed cane I carry around?”

Sara laughed, the sound bright and unrestrained. “Alright, fine. Maybe I’m way off. You’re probably one of those ageless types—tall, dark, and broody. I bet you have salt-and-pepper hair to match your serious landlord persona.”

Isamu smirked, leaning back in his chair. “Close enough. Black hair with a streak of white here and there. And tall, I suppose. What about you? What does a café dreamer look like?”

“Me?” Sara asked, her voice teasing. “Well, picture this: dark brown hair, usually in a messy braid because who has time to style it, and hazel eyes that are almost too good for this world.”
“Hazel eyes, huh?” Isamu mused, his voice softening. “Sounds striking.”
“Oh, they are,” Sara said, feigning arrogance. “But don’t get too charmed. I’m also clumsy and way too opinionated for my own good.”

“I’d argue that’s part of your charm,” Isamu replied, his voice low and warm.
Sara paused, and when she spoke again, there was a new playfulness in her tone. “Careful, Daichi-san. Keep talking like that, and I might start thinking you’re flirting with me.”

“And if I am?” Isamu challenged, his voice teasing but deliberate.
“Well, I’d have to up my game,” Sara quipped. “But don’t worry—I’ve been told I’m pretty good at keeping people hooked.”
Isamu chuckled, a deep, genuine sound. “I don’t doubt that.”
Their banter eased into a more serious tone as Sara spoke about her café dream, her words carrying a sincerity that left Isamu quietly captivated.
“It’s not just about the coffee or the pastries,” she explained. “It’s about creating a space where people can feel at home. Somewhere they can just be themselves. That’s what I’ve always wanted.”

Her words lingered in the air, striking a chord deep within Isamu. He thought about his own life, the endless expectations and roles he had been forced to play.
“You’re not just talking about a café,” he said softly. “You’re talking about finding a place to belong.”

Sara’s voice was quieter when she replied. “Maybe I am. I guess I’ve always wanted a place like that—for myself and for others.”
The silence that followed wasn’t awkward. It was heavy with understanding, a shared acknowledgment of something neither of them had quite articulated before.
As their conversation wound down, Sara’s voice brightened once more. “Thanks for letting me ramble, Daichi-san. You’re a surprisingly good listener.”
“And you’re surprisingly insightful for someone who thinks I’m fifty,” Isamu teased.
Sara laughed, the sound light and infectious. “Touché. Alright, mysterious landlord. Until next time.”

“Until next time,” Isamu echoed, a faint smile lingering as the call ended.

Later that evening, as the city lights glittered beyond his mansion window, Isamu found himself dialing her number again.

The line clicked, and Sara’s voice greeted him.
“Daichi-san! Twice in one day, again? Should I start thinking you’re obsessed with me?”
“Or maybe you’re the one keeping me hooked,” Isamu countered, his tone teasing.

“Careful, Daichi-san,” Sara quipped. “Keep talking like that, and I might just start believing it.”
“Maybe you should,” he replied, his voice soft but sure.

For the first time in a long while, Isamu felt something shift. Perhaps Sara’s relentless energy and honesty were what he needed. Perhaps change wasn’t such a frightening prospect after all.