The soft scent of jasmine lingered in the air, layered with the aroma of coffee. The café was a safe place—a quiet refuge tucked away from the bustle of the city. With bouquets and flower pots arranged neatly in a corner. My customers were always different: the tired office worker, the couple on a date, the student lost in a book. But the flowers remained constant, like my own small world of familiarity and comfort.

It had been a long day, the last of the sun slipping through the windows, casting long shadows on the floor. The soft hum of the coffee machine in the background was a steady companion to my thoughts. I loved this space. I had created it with my own hands—every flower carefully chosen, every cup brewed with care. 

The soft jingling of the bell above the café door broke the quiet hum of the afternoon. It wasn't anything extraordinary—just a normal part of the day in my little corner of the world. But when I looked up, my heart did an unexpected leap. 

There he was. 

I hadn't seen him in five years. Not since that last night before he left for university. Back then, I had told myself it wasn't the end. But life, it seems, had other plans. Time had a way of pulling us in different directions, and before long, he became a memory I cherished but couldn't hold on to. The long hours we spent during high school, the way we talked about the future as if it was some distant land that didn't belong to anyone yet... those were just memories now.

He stood there, in the doorway, hesitating like he wasn't sure if he should walk in. And for a moment, I wasn't sure what to do either. The whole scene felt surreal, like a dream I couldn't wake up from. 

He hadn't changed much on the surface—still tall, still that confident posture, that same easy charm. But there was something different now, something about the way he carried himself. A sort of assuredness that came with success, the air of someone who had lived more in those five years than I had in the past ten. 

I was still... here. Still in my little café. Still running the same small business. Still managing the flower shop tucked into the corner, surrounded by all the little plants I had carefully chosen, nurtured, and watched grow over the years.

"Rosie?" His voice was soft but not hesitant. It was a familiar sound, but it felt foreign now, like something I hadn't heard in years. 

"Jungkook." My own voice came out quieter than I intended, almost caught in my throat, as I slowly wiped my hands on my apron. 

He took a cautious step forward, and I could feel the tension building between us, thick and palpable. The same old questions swirled in my mind. 

What had changed?

Had anything changed?

Was it just me, or did we both feel the weight of time pressing down on us?

"You're... still here?" he asked, his words lingering awkwardly in the air. His gaze flicked around the small café, his eyes landing on the flowers that adorned the tables and windowsills. "I didn't expect that."

I offered a small, unsure smile as I straightened up. "Yeah. I'm still here. And, well, I own it now," I added, the last part coming out with more confidence than I actually felt. My fingers curled around the counter as I tried to steady my nerves. "I have the café and the flower shop now. It's... my dream." 

It wasn't just my dream, though. 

It had been ours once. 

He nodded, his gaze flickering briefly to the flowers near the window before meeting my eyes again. "I remember when we used to sit here after school... You always said you'd do something like this. Never thought you'd actually do it."

I didn't know if that was meant to be a compliment or if he was just stating the obvious. Either way, it stung a little. It was one of those things—those little comments that felt like he wasn't quite sure what to make of me anymore. I wasn't the person he remembered. And maybe I didn't recognize him, either.

A silence settled between us, awkward but not entirely uncomfortable. The world outside the café seemed to go on as usual, but inside, everything felt heavy. I reached for the coffee grinder, filling the air with the comforting sound of the beans being crushed, trying to mask the awkwardness that sat between us like an unspoken question.

"So," he said, breaking the silence at last. "You still have that green thumb?"

I blinked in surprise, glancing toward the little plants that lined the windowsills, each one carefully placed, each one growing steadily. "Yeah, I guess you could say that," I said, offering a small laugh. "Still love working with flowers. They're a little easier to understand than people sometimes." I immediately regretted the words as soon as they left my mouth, but Jungkook didn't seem to mind. 

"I get that," he replied. "I'm sure business is good, though. With your skills..."

I felt my cheeks warm slightly, and I busied myself with making his coffee—an easy way to avoid looking directly at him. Why did this feel so strange? 

"What can I get you?" I asked quickly, the question tumbling out a little too fast.

He looked at me for a moment, and I couldn't tell if he was deciding what to say next or simply taking in the fact that I was still the same person he remembered, only different. The pause stretched between us, making me feel like I was holding my breath. 

"Cappuccino, please," he said finally, his voice a little softer than before.

I nodded, focusing on making his drink while trying not to think too hard about what was happening. Why was I so nervous? It didn't make sense. Jungkook had been my best friend once. We'd shared so many hours together, talked about everything and nothing, laughed and dreamed about our futures as if they were ours to claim. 

But now, there was nothing but this thick, silent gap between us. We had both changed. We weren't the same people we used to be. 

"Do you still have that old notebook?" he asked suddenly, his voice almost hesitant, as if unsure if the question was too much. 

My heart skipped a beat. 

The notebook. 

The one we'd kept together back in high school, a collection of random thoughts, dreams, and silly jokes we'd written down over the years. We used to pass it back and forth, filling it with little notes to each other, like our own secret world.

I hadn't thought about that notebook in years. It was a relic of a past I had locked away, a past that felt so distant now.

"I... I still have it," I said, voice quiet. "I keep it locked up in a drawer somewhere."

He smiled then, a little softer, a little more nostalgic. "I remember how we used to pass it back and forth, like a secret we didn't want anyone to know."

I bit my lip, trying to swallow the wave of emotion that surged up. "Yeah. Those were good times."

"Yeah," he said softly. "Good times." 

And for a moment, we just stood there, the quiet between us filled with memories, both painful and sweet. I wanted to say more, wanted to ask him what had happened in the years since we last spoke. But something held me back. Something kept me quiet.

Jungkook glanced down at his coffee, the steam rising in soft spirals. Then, without looking up, he said, "I... I was thinking of that notebook earlier today. And I guess... I guess I wanted to see you again. To, you know, talk. To not just leave things the way they were."

My fingers stilled on the edge of the counter. I wasn't sure what to say to that. He wanted to talk? After all this time?

"Why now?" I asked softly, my voice shaking just a little. "After everything? Why did you come back?"

There was a long pause before he answered, and I felt my heart begin to race in my chest.

"I don't know," he said finally, his voice quiet. "Maybe... maybe because I realized there's a lot I never said. A lot I should have said before."

I swallowed hard, my emotions tangled in a knot I couldn't untangle. There was so much I wanted to say to him, but I didn't know where to start. Or if I even should.

I busied myself with preparing his cappuccino, though my hands shook a little more than usual. The sound of the milk frothing filled the silence between us, but it wasn't a comforting noise—it was just a distraction. 

As I carefully poured the milk into the coffee, I stole a glance at Jungkook. He was watching me with a mixture of curiosity and something else—something unreadable that flickered in his eyes. I was hyper-aware of the way his presence filled the space, how his every move seemed to command attention, even in the small, familiar café.

When I set the cappuccino in front of him, I noticed his eyes linger on me, just for a second longer than necessary. "I've missed your coffee," he said softly, his tone a little heavier than before.

The words hung in the air, and for a moment, I didn't know how to respond. It wasn't just the coffee he missed, I realized. It was something deeper, something we both had left behind when we parted ways years ago.

I pulled myself from the thought, giving a small smile. "I'm glad. I've put a lot of work into it," I replied, my voice coming out a bit more casual than I felt. "So, uh, what's new with you? How've you been?" I asked, the question a little too rushed, but I needed to know. I needed to hear his story, to understand the years we'd missed.

Jungkook leaned back in his chair, rubbing the back of his neck, looking almost uncomfortable. "I've been good. Busy. You know, finance stuff, corporate life, all the usual things." His lips curved into a faint smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. He didn't seem like the same carefree person I had known. "I've been traveling a lot too, all over the place for work."

I nodded, unsure how to respond to that. It wasn't the life I had imagined for him. When we were younger, we used to talk about everything we wanted to do, everything we wanted to be. Together. There were no limits back then, no expectations from the world. But now... it seemed like the world had shaped him in ways I didn't fully understand.

"I see. Sounds... exhausting." I had no idea how to process this version of him. 

He gave a soft chuckle, one that didn't quite match the seriousness in his eyes. "Yeah, it is. But it's what I signed up for, right?" His gaze dropped to the cappuccino in front of him, as if finding some comfort in the simple act of stirring his drink. "What about you? How's the shop? The flowers?"

I glanced at the counter where a few fresh bouquets sat, the vibrant colors a stark contrast to the gray light filtering through the windows. I didn't think about it often, but when someone asked, I was reminded how much it had become a part of me. "It's... good. Busy, but good. It's what I wanted, you know? I never really thought it would be easy. But it's fulfilling." 

I let the words sink in, feeling the truth of them. My café, my flowers—it was everything I had dreamed of, but it wasn't the same without someone to share it with. There was a part of me that still missed the version of me that used to dream with him. 

"I'm glad to hear that," he said softly. There was something in his voice, a sincerity that made my chest ache.

For a moment, the words caught in my throat. I wasn't sure if I should ask the questions that had been building up in me for years. But he seemed to sense it, and before I could speak, he said, "You probably have a lot of questions. About why I never kept in touch, why I just... disappeared."

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. It wasn't just the silence between us anymore—it was the weight of the past that hung in the air.

He sighed deeply, leaning forward with his elbows on the table, the weight of the confession making him seem smaller, more vulnerable than I had ever seen him. "I didn't want to leave things like that, Rosie. But I didn't know how to explain. I was scared, honestly. I felt like we were growing apart, and I... I didn't want to hurt you. So I just left." 

The words hit me harder than I expected. Scared? I had never thought of him as someone who would be afraid. He was always the strong, confident one, the one who seemed to have everything figured out. 

"I never meant for it to be like this," he continued. "I guess I've been running away from it all these years. From what we had. From what I felt."

I swallowed the lump in my throat, my eyes stinging slightly. 

What had we had?

What was that connection?

"And now?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Now..." He paused, meeting my eyes with a look that made my heart skip a beat. "Now, I think I'm ready to face it. Whatever it is."

It wasn't just the apology in his words that made my heart ache—it was the honesty behind them. The vulnerability. In that moment, I was ready to forget everything. 

"I... I don't know if I can just pick up where we left off," I admitted, the words tumbling out before I could stop them. "It's been so long, Jungkook. And we've changed. We're not the same people anymore."

"I know," he said softly, his gaze intense, as if he was trying to read me. "But I want to try, Rosie. I want to figure out what this is. What we are."

There it was again—the pull. That old connection, the one that had never really gone away, no matter how far apart we had been. I could feel it, like a quiet whisper beneath everything, urging me to take a step closer.

And yet, something inside me hesitated. 

Could I trust him again?  Could I let him back in after everything?

"I think... we can try," I said, my voice steadier now, but the uncertainty was still there, lurking beneath. "But it won't be easy. Not after everything."

"I know," he replied, his voice low but sincere. "But maybe... maybe we can take it slow. Like we used to. We don't have to rush into anything. I just want to be in your life again."

I nodded slowly, taking in his words, feeling the weight of them settle into my heart. "Alright."

The silence that followed wasn't as awkward anymore. It was... almost comfortable. 

As I glanced at him, I felt the pull again—this time stronger, undeniable. We weren't the same, but we were still us. And maybe, just maybe, that was enough to start over.

♡

Jungkook would always choose quiet afternoons to visit the café. When there wasn't any rush. Most times, that left just us being the occupants. 

One afternoon, he had stayed longer than usual, as he often did now, and we were talking about everything and nothing. We were talking about the weather, about how I wanted to expand the café's space to include more flowers, and then—just like that—he slid a note across the table. 

The handwriting was unmistakable, and my heart skipped a beat when I saw it.

I remembered the days we used to talk about everything. I miss those days.

I stared at the words, biting my lip to suppress the anxiety rising in my chest. There was a tenderness to his note, but there was also something about it that made me wary. It wasn't a confession of anything, not really. It was just a memory. And I didn't know how to feel about that.

I folded the note, tucking it into my pocket, not sure what to say or do. Jungkook had finished his coffee and was waiting, his eyes trained on me. 

"What do you think?" he asked, the quiet hope in his voice unmistakable. 

I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry. "I think... I think we've both changed."

Jungkook's face fell slightly, but he nodded. "I know. I've been thinking about that, too."

There was silence between us then, a moment that stretched longer than it should have. He didn't ask for more, and neither did I. But my mind raced, and all I could think about was the last time we'd been together—before he left, without a word. I didn't want to go down that road again. 

♡

The days that passed were like soft, fragile threads weaving our connection back together. We'd been strangers, then awkward acquaintances, but now—now we were something else, something undefined. Jungkook came by the café more often. And with each visit, those little moments grew longer, more significant. Every smile he gave me, every lingering glance, felt like a piece of the past slowly piecing itself back together.

Still, there was an undercurrent of unease that I couldn't shake. The notes—those little secret messages that had started as something innocent—had become the way we communicated, the way we bridged the distance between us. 

And yet, with each note, there was a growing fear in me. What if this was just another phase for him? What if, like before, he'd come and go, leaving me behind again? What if I was setting myself up for disappointment, for that aching void I knew all too well?

♡

A few days later, after another quiet visit, I found another note on the counter. This time, it was slipped under my hand as I was clearing the table. My heart leaped when I saw his familiar handwriting again.

I don't want to run anymore.

It was simple, but it hit me harder than it should have. I couldn't ignore the questions in my mind. Why was he saying this now? Was he truly staying this time? Or was this just another fleeting moment, another lie I would tell myself?

I stared at the note for a long time, trying to calm the turbulent thoughts in my head. 

I needed to know. I needed to confront him about it. 

So, I took a deep breath, shoved the note in my pocket, and walked over to his table, where he was sitting with that same distant look in his eyes.

"Jungkook," I said, my voice shaking slightly. He looked up at me, startled. "Can we talk about something?"

He sat up straighter, setting his cup down. "Of course. What's on your mind?"

I hesitated, my hands suddenly trembling. "The note you left me... about not running anymore. I—" I took a deep breath, forcing myself to meet his gaze. "I need to know what that means. Are you really staying this time? Or is this just another... thing that you'll leave behind when you get bored?"

His eyes widened slightly at my words, but there was no defensiveness in his expression—only surprise. And then, slowly, a soft sigh escaped his lips, as if he had been expecting this. 

"I didn't mean to hurt you," he said, his voice low, almost regretful. "I never meant for things to end the way they did. I know I left, and I know that's something you've had to live with, but... I don't want to run anymore, Rosie. Not from you. Not from what we could be."

His words made my heart race, but the skepticism was still there, deep in my gut. "But that's what you said the last time, isn't it? That we'll have each other in future,  always. You feed me fake promises and then... you just leave. You did it before, and you'll do it again. But I can't do this to me a second time. I cannot hurt myself for you."

The words tumbled out of me before I could stop them, and I saw his expression falter. For a moment, he didn't speak. But then, with a sigh, he stood up from his chair and walked over to where I was standing. He reached for my hand, a hesitant gesture that made my breath catch.

"Rosie, I'm sorry for the way I've treated you. I didn't know how to handle everything back then. But I swear, I'm not leaving this time. I'm not going anywhere. I'm here. For you. For us."

I could see the sincerity in his eyes, but it didn't stop the fear from rising inside me. The fear that this, too, would slip away. That he would leave me again.

"Why should I believe you?" I whispered, my voice breaking with the weight of all the pain I'd carried since he left.

Jungkook squeezed my hand gently, his thumb tracing small circles on my skin. "Because I'm not running anymore. I'm here, Rosie. And if you'll let me, I want to show you that I'm not going anywhere."

The silence that followed was heavy with the weight of everything unsaid. And for a long moment, I stood there, my heart torn between the fear of being hurt again and the hope that maybe—just maybe—this time would be different.

"I want to believe you," I said softly, my voice barely above a whisper. "But I'm scared. Scared of being hurt again."

"I know," he said, his voice rough with emotion. "And I'll prove it to you. One step at a time."

♡

The days that followed were filled with more quiet moments and whispered promises. The notes continued, each one a little more vulnerable than the last. I'll prove it to you, Jungkook had written in one, and in another: I'm not going anywhere.

But the fear lingered inside me, the fear that one day, he would disappear again. And it wasn't until one evening, weeks after that conversation, that I finally admitted the truth to him.

I found him sitting at his usual spot, looking out the window, deep in thought. The café was quiet, the evening light casting soft shadows across the room. I walked over to him, feeling the weight of my decision.

"Jungkook," I said, my voice trembling. "I need to ask you something. And I need you to be honest with me. Are you really staying this time? Or is this just... a moment for you?"

He turned to face me, his expression soft but earnest. "I'm staying. I'm not leaving."

I took a deep breath, my heart pounding. "Then why does it feel like you're already gone?" I asked, the question spilling from my lips before I could stop it.

Jungkook's face softened with understanding. He reached for my hand, holding it tightly. "I'm sorry for making you feel that way. But I'm here now, Rosie. I'm not leaving. And if you'll let me, I'll spend every day showing you that I mean it."

For the first time in a long time, I felt a flicker of hope—a tiny spark that maybe, he meant it. And maybe, this time, things could be different.

We stood there, the weight of everything hanging between us like a thick fog. I could feel the distance—he wasn't physically far, but emotionally, he might as well have been on the other side of the world. The words I wanted to say, the words that had been waiting to escape me for so long, hovered in the back of my mind, but there was something else—something raw—that needed to come out first. Something I had kept buried, even from myself.

"I—" Jungkook's voice faltered for the first time. "I should've told you. Back then. When I left. But I didn't know how."

He looked down, his gaze falling to the floor, and for a moment, the silence between us felt unbearable. I wasn't sure what I was waiting for, but I held my breath, hoping, praying, that this would finally be the moment where the past would be explained.

"I wasn't running from you," he began, and his voice was quieter now, almost like he was speaking to himself. "I was running from myself. From the things I couldn't handle."

My heart skipped a beat, and I took a step back, unsure if I was ready to hear this, but needing to understand. "What do you mean?" I asked, my voice a little shaky. "Why didn't you talk to me? We could've figured it out. You didn't have to leave."

Jungkook finally looked up, his eyes meeting mine, and I could see the pain there, deep in the corners of his gaze. "I couldn't drag you into my mess, Rosie. I knew it was going to get worse before it got better. I wasn't in control of anything. I had too much going on. I needed to leave—to sort things out. And I couldn't ask you to wait around for me, to put your life on hold for someone who was... so lost."

His words hit me like a physical blow. He had left because he couldn't handle his own struggles, and in doing so, he'd left me stranded—without a single explanation. I felt my chest tighten as the reality of his confession settled in.

"But we were supposed to do this together," I said, the words thick with emotion. "We were supposed to build this café, build a life together. We made those plans since when we were kids. And you had promised we'd work on it together after graduating high school. But you left without even discussing it. Without telling me why. Without a single word."

"I know," he whispered, stepping closer, his hand still hovering near my arm, as though unsure if he could reach out. "I know I broke that promise. And I'll never forgive myself for it. But the truth is, I didn't know how to handle everything—my family, my future, ... And I wasn't sure then if.... if running a small business is what I wanted to do. It was complicated and I didn't want to pull you into my mess. I couldn't hurt you like that. It was your dream and I couldn't bring myself to tell you the truth. It wasn't fair to you. It wasn't fair to us."

I closed my eyes, trying to breathe through the ache in my chest. "You hurt me more by leaving, Jungkook. If you didn't want to do it, you could've just talked to me. I would have understood. Did you not trust me even a bit? We were supposed to be the ones who handled everything together. I don't understand. You left when you could've just talked to me, told me how you were feeling. We could've faced it—together."

The vulnerability in his expression deepened, his eyes not shying away from mine. "I didn't want you to see me like that. Weak. Broken. I thought if I just ran away, I could fix myself on my own, without dragging you down with me. But I was wrong, Rosie. I was wrong to leave like that. I should've talked to you. I should've trusted you."

I swallowed hard, my emotions surging like a tidal wave. I wanted to shout at him, to tell him how much it had hurt, how much I had missed him—how empty everything had been after he left. But the truth was, I couldn't do that. Not now. Not when he was standing here, telling me the hardest thing he had ever admitted.

"Then why did you come back?" I finally asked, my voice a little hoarse, the question hanging in the air between us. "Why now? After all this time?"

Jungkook's eyes softened, and he let out a quiet breath. "Because I realized something," he said slowly. "I realized that running away doesn't solve anything. And I couldn't keep pretending that I didn't need you. I may have have a well-paying, successful corporate job now, but my heart is here. I felt foolish to accept the truth. Foolish for throwing away so much because of self doubts, when this is where my heart kept coming back to. It took me five years to realise what I was losing. You, this café, our dream. I couldn't bring myself to face you again after what I did─ it took a lot of courage to come back. And now, I want to make it happen, Rosie. I want to make it right. But I can't do it without you."

"I'm sorry."

His words hung in the air, heavy and fragile. For a moment, I couldn't speak. The past, the hurt, everything between us seemed to swell and recede like an ocean tide, threatening to pull me under. 

But then, something inside me shifted. 

I took a deep breath, looking at him—not just the man who had left, but the man who had come back. The one who was finally, truly here.

"I'm scared, Jungkook," I whispered, my voice barely audible. "I'm scared that you'll leave again. That this is just another... another empty promise. But I'm not going to lie to you. I still care. And maybe, we can try again. But you need to show me—show me that you mean it. Because I can't keep doing this. I can't keep waiting."

Jungkook's expression softened, his lips parting slightly as if he wanted to say something but couldn't find the right words. "I'll show you, Rosie," he said, his voice filled with resolve. "I won't leave again. I'll prove to you that I'm not running this time. I swear it."

I nodded slowly, my heart still heavy, but a small flicker of hope—fragile, yet undeniable—stirred within me. Maybe, we could do this. Maybe the promise of us, wasn't so far out of reach.

"I'll hold you to that," I said softly, meeting his gaze. And for the first time in years, I let myself believe that, maybe, we could make it happen.

♡

The days that followed felt like a gentle unraveling. At first, it was awkward—no, more like tentative. We were like two people who had once been close but now found themselves on the edge of something they couldn't quite touch. Each time Jungkook came by the café, it was different. 

He started staying longer. He didn't always have somewhere to go after his coffee anymore, and I could see it in his eyes. He wanted to talk. He wanted to make up for the years that had slipped by.

It wasn't easy for either of us. Our conversations were stilted at first, like we were walking on eggshells. I would ask about his work, and he'd respond with the usual vague answers about corporate life. He would ask about the café, and I'd give a quiet, sincere reply, my voice betraying the hint of nerves I couldn't quite shake. But as the days passed, those little awkward moments started to feel less... out of place. And I found myself looking forward to his visits, wondering if today would be the day we spoke about more than just the surface.

And then, something unexpected happened—something that made me realize we were finding our way back to each other.

It started with a small gesture. 

One afternoon, I was busy arranging flowers in the front display when I noticed Jungkook walk in, looking as he always did—dressed in a well-tailored suit, his hair slightly messy, like he'd just gotten out of a meeting. He greeted me with a warm smile, but his eyes were distant, as if lost in thought. 

He ordered his usual—cappuccino—and sat at his usual spot by the window, the one that gave him a view of the street. I could tell he wasn't really paying attention to the world outside, his mind elsewhere. I could feel a bit of that old connection between us, though, a subtle hum beneath the surface. 

After a while, I finished up the bouquet I was working on and walked past his table with the flowers in hand. As I did, I glanced over, not quite meeting his eyes, but just enough to catch the faint, uncertain smile on his lips. 

"You always look so focused when you work with the flowers," he said, breaking the silence. His voice was soft, almost thoughtful. "I don't think I've ever seen anyone work as carefully as you do." 

I couldn't help but smile. "It's kind of like putting pieces of a puzzle together. Every stem, every petal, has to be in the right place. Otherwise, it's just a mess."

He nodded, his gaze following me as I set the bouquet down on the counter. "I think that's what I like about it. You always know exactly what to do."

There was something different in his words, something sincere. It was as if he had been watching me all this time, paying attention to the things I didn't realize I was doing. 

As I walked back toward the counter to prepare another drink, I noticed a folded piece of paper on the corner, tucked beneath the napkins. I hadn't seen anyone leave it there, but somehow, I had the feeling it was for me. My fingers trembled slightly as I picked it up, my heart skipping a beat as I saw my name written on the front in his familiar handwriting.

I took a deep breath, unfolding the note carefully, as if it might break if I moved too quickly.

I'm glad I came back.

The simplicity of the words hit me harder than I expected. I stood there for a moment, the note in my hand, unsure of how to process what I was feeling. But then I noticed something—something that made my breath catch in my throat. Beneath the words, he had drawn a little flower.

It was a delicate sketch, not perfect, but it was him. It was that same side of him I remembered—the side that was thoughtful, that cared in quiet ways. 

A warmth spread through me as I looked at the note, the words, the drawing. And for the first time in a long while, I felt that old connection—familiar and new, fragile and strong all at once. It was like a flower beginning to bloom, slowly but surely, opening itself to the world.

I placed the note back on the counter, feeling the weight of it settle in my chest. I didn't know what was happening between us, or where this was going. But I knew one thing: I couldn't keep pretending it wasn't there. The pull, the spark that was never truly gone. 

Jungkook hadn't noticed that I'd seen the note yet. He was too absorbed in the book he'd brought with him, flipping through the pages absentmindedly. But I could feel the anticipation in the air, as if he, too, was waiting for something. Maybe for me to understand. Maybe for me to respond.

I didn't want to rush it, though. The note felt like a promise, one that didn't need to be spoken aloud. So instead, I took a deep breath, gave him a small smile, and said, "I'll get started on your coffee."

He looked up at me, his expression softening. "Take your time. I'm in no rush."

I moved toward the coffee machine, my hands steady despite the fluttering in my chest. I didn't know what this was between us, or where it would lead, but it felt like something real. Something that was worth taking the time to explore.

♡

The following days were a blur of small exchanges, moments that seemed insignificant on their own but built into something that felt like more. Jungkook would come by, sit quietly, and we'd talk about anything and everything. There was no rush, no pressure. Just two people rediscovering a friendship they thought was lost.

And yet, with each passing day, I couldn't ignore the pull I felt. It was in the way his eyes lingered on me when I wasn't looking, in the way he'd hold my gaze for a beat longer than necessary. It was in the way we would catch ourselves smiling at the same time, sharing a quiet joke, our laughter filling the space between us.

Then, a week later, Jungkook left me another note.

It was a time when the café was usually quieter. He came in, ordered his coffee, and took his usual seat by the window. I didn't think much of it at first—just another quiet afternoon, the usual rhythm of things. But when I walked past his table again, this time to clear a cup, I saw the note tucked beneath his plate.

I didn't hesitate this time. I picked it up, feeling that same flutter in my chest as I unfolded it.

I've missed this.

I smiled softly, the words sinking into me like a gentle wave. Beneath the message, he had drawn another flower—this time, it was a little more detailed, the petals shaded in lightly with a pencil.

It was as if he was speaking without speaking, telling me everything I needed to know through those small, thoughtful gestures. We didn't need to rush this. We didn't need to figure it all out in one go. We just needed to let it happen.

♡

It was getting late, and the café was heading towards closing hours. I was cleaning the counter, tidying up after the evening rush, when Jungkook walked in again. I hadn't expected him tonight, but his presence was a welcome surprise.

"You staying late tonight?" he asked as he approached, his voice low but warm.

"Yeah, just finishing up," I replied, wiping down the counter. "What about you?"

"Just wanted to drop by. I was passing by and thought I'd grab something to go," he said casually, but his eyes met mine with that familiar softness.

I nodded, reaching for the coffee grinder. "You want the usual?"

He smiled, a quiet, genuine smile that made something flutter in my chest. "Yeah, if it's not too much trouble."

I was quiet for a moment as I prepared his coffee, the sounds of the café around us—cups clinking, the steam of the milk frothing—felt oddly comforting. Jungkook leaned against the counter, watching me with a quiet intensity. I felt the weight of his gaze, but this time, it didn't make me nervous. It was almost like he was... present, in a way he hadn't been before.

When I handed him the coffee, our fingers brushed again, just a little longer this time. I looked up at him, and for a moment, I could have sworn there was something deeper in his eyes. Something that wasn't just about friendship.

"Thanks," he said, his voice softer than usual.

I smiled, my heart skipping a beat. "No problem. I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Yeah," he said, a little pause hanging in the air between us. "Definitely."

As he left, I couldn't help the smile that tugged at my lips. It was a simple gesture, but it felt like a step forward. Like we were finally starting to come back to each other, piece by piece.

♡

The notes continued, but this time, they weren't just about the past or the fear of what might happen. They were promises—quiet assurances that, even if we couldn't rush everything, we were on the same path. Together.

And that was enough.

♡

It was one of those hectic afternoons. The café was packed with people, a sea of chatter and movement as customers filed in, ordering their drinks, trying to find a place to sit. The door opened every few seconds, the bell chiming above it, reminding me of the constant stream of new orders. I had barely a moment to breathe as I worked behind the counter, making drinks, taking orders, and trying to keep everything running smoothly.

I felt the heat of the espresso machine against my hands as I frothed milk, the steam rising in a white cloud that clouded my vision for a second. It was a rush, the kind of busy that left little room for anything else—except maybe a glance at the clock, counting down the minutes until the line eased up.

Then, just as I was pulling the last shot of espresso, I looked up and saw him. Jungkook. Standing by the door, looking as calm as ever, even with the buzz of the café around him. His eyes met mine across the room, and he offered a small wave, barely noticeable to anyone else, but I saw it. 

I managed a brief smile and quickly turned back to my work, trying not to let the slight flutter in my chest distract me. "You came at a bad time," I called over my shoulder, my voice almost drowned out by the clink of cups and the sound of milk frothing.

He just nodded, that same easygoing expression on his face. "Looks like it," he said with a soft chuckle, as if he knew I was juggling too many things to really give him attention.

"I'll be with you in a bit!" I said, already moving on to the next order.

He didn't argue, settling into the corner by the window, just like always. I didn't look back, keeping my focus on the line of customers, but I couldn't help but notice the quiet presence he had as he sat there, watching the world outside. Even in the middle of the chaos, he had this calm that somehow made everything seem... just a little more manageable. 

Time passed slowly, customers coming and going, and I worked with my head down, my hands moving automatically. But with each passing minute, I was aware of his gaze. Not in an intrusive way—just there, a familiar warmth I could feel even from across the room.

Eventually, the rush started to ease. The line died down, the café grew quieter, and I finally found a moment to breathe. I wiped my hands on my apron and glanced over at Jungkook. He was still sitting by the window, his legs stretched out and his arms crossed casually. He hadn't left, even though I was sure he'd had plenty of other places to be. 

I walked over slowly, my shoes clicking lightly against the floor. When I reached him, I hesitated for a second before sitting down across from him. 

"Busy day," I said, offering a tired smile. I didn't feel like I had to explain myself to him, but I could feel the exhaustion settling in my bones.

"You don't say," he replied, his smile small but genuine. "I could tell. It's hard to miss the hustle." He leaned back slightly in his chair, studying me for a moment before adding, "You've got your hands full."

I shrugged. "It's part of the job," I said with a small laugh, but something about his expression made me want to admit more. To talk about how it sometimes felt overwhelming, how I was running the café. But I didn't. Not yet.

The silence between us lingered for a few moments, comfortable in its own way. I could hear the soft hum of the espresso machine in the background, the clink of a spoon in a cup. 

"You should hire more people," Jungkook said casually, his eyes flicking toward the counter. "Seems like you could use the help."

I looked at him, the suggestion hanging in the air between us. I had always done everything myself, but his words made me think—maybe he was right.

"Yeah," I agreed after a beat, a soft sigh escaping my lips. "Maybe I should. But... it's hard to find someone reliable, you know?" I glanced down at my hands, feeling the weight of the day in my fingers. 

Jungkook's eyes flickered toward me, his lips curving just slightly. "I can imagine."

I smiled softly, meeting his gaze for a brief second. There was something there in his eyes—a quiet understanding that I hadn't realized I needed. 

Then, he said, almost offhandedly, "Do you need a new barista?" 

The words were simple, and yet they made me pause. I blinked, not quite sure if I had heard him right. He was looking at me, not with a teasing grin or a serious face, but somewhere in between—like he was just offering an idea, nothing more.

I laughed, not out of disbelief but because the thought of Jungkook—Jungkook, who had built a life in finance—behind the counter, making coffee, was so... unexpected. 

"Do you even know how to make coffee?" I asked, my voice light, though I couldn't suppress the amusement tugging at the corners of my lips.

His smile deepened, and he gave a small shrug, as if the answer didn't matter. "How hard can it be?" he replied, his voice soft but with a certain sincerity that made me wonder if he was serious. 

I paused for a moment, considering his words. Could he really be serious? Jungkook—the finance guy, the one who had left everything behind for this career—offering to work as a barista in my café? It seemed absurd, but... the more I thought about it, the more the idea didn't seem so far-fetched. He'd been so comfortable here in the café, the way he seemed to enjoy the quiet and the atmosphere. And he did say he missed our dream of working at the café together. 

"Well," I said slowly, a smile pulling at my lips, "you'd have to learn how to make a proper cappuccino first."

Jungkook's expression softened, and he nodded as if he had already made up his mind. "I'm sure I could manage. For you."

I didn't know what to say to that. His words hung in the air between us, simple but filled with something I couldn't quite put my finger on. 

"Maybe we'll see," I said softly, my eyes meeting his. For a moment, there was a flicker in his gaze—something quiet and meaningful that made my heart race ever so slightly. 

I didn't want to admit it, but I felt a little lighter in that moment. A little more at ease with him. 

As I got up to check on a new order, I couldn't help but smile to myself. Maybe this was just the beginning of something, of him becoming more than a passing visitor. Maybe he was already starting to fit into this little corner of my world more than I realized.

♡

It had been a week since Jungkook had sat down in the corner of my café during rush hour. Since then, his visits had become a little more frequent, though not overwhelming. He'd sit by the window, quietly observing, his presence almost a calm anchor in the bustling café. It wasn't until one afternoon, as the last customer left and the day's chaos finally began to die down, that I noticed something new.

I was wiping down the counter when I saw it—a small folded note tucked beneath the edge of the register, positioned just slightly out of place, like it had been carefully left there. It was the kind of detail that only someone who paid attention would notice.

I picked it up, unfolding it carefully. My breath caught a little when I saw the familiar handwriting on the front—his handwriting. My name was written in bold, confident strokes, the letters neat and precise.

Opening it, I found the simple note inside, written in black ink, a message so short yet somehow heavy with meaning:

I think of you more than I should.

At the bottom, a small flower was drawn—just like the one on the first note, but this time it was a little more intricate, the petals overlapping delicately, almost like the way I felt when I looked at him—complicated, layered, and something I hadn't quite figured out yet.

I smiled to myself, biting my lip as I placed the note down on the counter. The familiar flutter of warmth in my chest was back, and I tried to ignore it as I focused on finishing my closing duties. But I couldn't stop thinking about the note, or what it meant—what it could mean.

The next day, as I was setting up for the morning shift, I found another note. This time, it was tucked under my favorite coffee mug. I let out a small sigh of amusement, half wondering how he managed to always leave them in such unexpected places. 

I unfolded the note, smiling when I saw his writing again. This one was, more to the point. And hilarious. 

Did you know I'm better at making coffee than you think?

Beneath that, another flower—this one drawn in a loose, carefree style, the petals jagged, as if it had been sketched in a hurry. The flower's shape didn't seem perfect, but somehow that made it even more endearing. It was as if he was telling me that he wasn't trying to be perfect, just... trying. 

I chuckled quietly to myself. This time, his note was playful, teasing me in a way that felt familiar but also fresh. I could almost hear his voice in my head, the way he would say things with that mix of confidence and humor.

Later that day, after the lunch rush had calmed down, Jungkook walked in as he usually did, slipping in through the door like it was second nature. I was busy behind the counter, preparing drinks, but I couldn't help but notice him glancing around, eyes catching mine for a brief second before he pulled out a small piece of paper from his jacket pocket.

I raised an eyebrow, giving him a questioning look as he came closer.

"What's that?" I asked, half-teasing, half-curious.

He smiled, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "A little something," he said, slipping the note onto the counter and nudging it toward me.

I couldn't help but smile as I picked it up, unfolding it carefully. This time, his words were even simpler than before.

I'm not going anywhere. 

And under the words, another flower—a single petal this time, delicate and perfect in its simplicity. The kind of flower that seemed fragile but beautiful, like a memory that had just started to take shape.

I blinked at the note for a moment, then looked up at him, unsure of what to say. His gaze was steady, warm, and there was a quiet sincerity behind it that made my heart race, just a little bit.

"You're not?" I asked, the words escaping before I could think too much about it. My voice felt softer than usual, and I wondered if I had said too much.

He shook his head, his smile faint but reassuring. "No. I'm here."

For a moment, there was only the sound of the café around us—the hum of the espresso machine, the occasional clink of a spoon or a cup. And then, just as casually, he added, "For as long as you need me, I guess."

I didn't know how to respond. There was so much unsaid in that simple statement, so many layers that I wasn't sure I was ready to peel back just yet. But there it was, hanging between us, a promise with no strings attached—just the quiet truth of his words.

I reached for a napkin, almost absentmindedly, as I tucked the note into my pocket, my fingers brushing against the paper. "You're something else, Jungkook," I said, my voice light. I wasn't sure whether I was teasing him or speaking the truth. Maybe a little of both.

He laughed softly, that deep, warm sound that I'd come to recognize. "You say that like it's a bad thing."

I shook my head, a smile tugging at the corners of my lips. "I didn't say that."

"Yeah, but you were thinking it." His grin was playful, but there was a softness behind it, too.

I smiled back at him, feeling the warmth of the moment, the connection between us growing slowly, quietly. His notes, his words—each little gesture was like another petal added to a flower that was starting to bloom between us, delicate but real.

I felt like this—was something worth holding onto.

♡

It was late in the afternoon, the light filtering softly through the windows of the café, casting long shadows on the wooden floors. The place was quiet, save for the occasional clink of a cup or the soft murmur of jazz playing in the background. I was in the middle of wiping down the counter when I felt it—a slight shift in the air, a familiar presence that I couldn't ignore.

Jungkook had entered the café, as he often did, but today was different. His usual casual smile seemed a little more tentative, his gaze lingering just a fraction longer than usual. He didn't head for his usual corner right away, instead standing by the counter, waiting for me to acknowledge him.

I wiped the counter a little more deliberately, not wanting to seem too eager to greet him, even though my heart was doing an odd little dance in my chest. His visits had become more frequent, and while they still held a sense of familiarity, there was something new and uncertain about them now—something unspoken that hung in the air between us.

I glanced up at him as I placed the rag down, feeling my cheeks flush slightly when I met his eyes. There was a softness there that I hadn't seen before—an understanding, or maybe an invitation, to say something that had been left unsaid for too long.

"Hey," I said casually, not wanting to make things awkward, even though the tension between us felt thick in the air. "How's your day been?"

He smiled, but it was a little quieter than usual. "Busy. But I figured I'd stop by before I go home." His eyes flickered toward the counter where I was standing, and then back to me, an unreadable expression settling in his gaze. "You've been working hard."

I nodded, a bit embarrassed by the state of the café around me. The counters were cluttered with stray napkins and empty cups, the place feeling more like a battlefield than the cozy haven I wanted it to be.

I reached up to brush my hair out of my face as I spoke, but the stray strands kept falling back into my eyes, sticking to my skin in the humidity of the room. Without thinking, I tucked them behind my ear, but they kept slipping forward again, an annoying and constant reminder of how much I still had to do.

That's when I felt it—his hand, light and gentle, brushing against my cheek as he reached up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind my ear. The touch was soft but deliberate, and I froze for a moment, caught in the unexpected tenderness of the action.

His fingers lingered there for just a heartbeat, a subtle warmth spreading across my skin where he had touched me. The room suddenly felt quieter, as if the world had momentarily paused around us. His touch was so light, but it felt like it held more meaning than I was ready to admit.

When he pulled his hand back, I was left staring at him, a little breathless, unsure of what to do or say. His expression was unreadable, but there was something in his eyes—something that felt both vulnerable and certain.

"Sorry," he said after a beat, his voice softer than usual, almost apologetic, as if he had crossed some invisible line. "Your hair was..." He trailed off, his gaze flickering to the side. "I didn't mean to..."

But I wasn't mad. In fact, it was the opposite. 

I felt a rush of warmth spread through me, more than I could put into words. There was something so intimate about that small, quiet gesture—so simple and natural, but it spoke volumes. I could feel my heart beating faster, and I was suddenly more aware of the space between us than I'd ever been before.

"It's okay," I said, a soft smile curling on my lips. I could feel my cheeks burning, but I tried to ignore it, focusing on the way his eyes were still on me, waiting for my reaction. "It's just... my hair's always getting in the way."

He nodded, his lips twitching upward into that familiar smile, though it seemed softer now, less guarded than before. "Yeah, I noticed."

I looked down at my hands, suddenly feeling shy under the weight of the moment. His touch had been so gentle, and yet it had affected me more than I had expected. I wasn't sure why, but there was something about the way he'd touched me—so carefully, as if he was afraid of breaking me—that made me want to believe it wasn't just an accident.

It felt like a promise, though, a quiet one, that maybe he wasn't as unsure about all this as he seemed.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and straightened up, trying to regain my composure. "So, what can I get you today?" I asked, a bit more breathlessly than I intended, but I hoped the question would shift the focus away from the electric moment that had passed between us.

Jungkook's smile softened as he stepped up to the counter. "Just the usual," he said, his voice steady, though there was a hint of something in it that made me think he was just as aware of the moment as I was.

As I made his coffee, I could still feel the lingering warmth of his touch on my skin, like an imprint that wouldn't fade. And despite the usual hum of the café, I couldn't help but feel like the space between us had shifted, had grown smaller in a way I wasn't quite ready to acknowledge.

But somehow, I didn't mind. I didn't mind at all.

♡

Another note came a few weeks later, and by then, it felt like everything had fallen into place.

Can we take this one step at a time?

That was all it said. And beneath the words was a simple heart.

It was enough. It was more than enough.

Because for the first time in years, I felt like I wasn't alone. I wasn't the only one holding on to the past, and yearning for a happier future. 

 ♡

As I stood by the counter, the café quiet and peaceful now that the rush was over, I glanced at the little corner where Jungkook usually sat. The empty seat felt like a piece of my heart missing—something that had slowly and quietly taken root over the weeks we'd spent together, exchanging little notes and moments.

It was strange to think that not too long ago, I had feared he would leave again, just like he had before. I had feared the distance, the silence, the questions that lingered in the spaces between us. But now, as I looked back at the journey we had taken—every awkward moment, every soft touch, every quiet conversation—I realized how much I had grown, and how much we had both changed.

Maybe love didn't always need grand declarations or sweeping gestures. Sometimes, it was in the small things—the subtle smiles, the knowing glances, the way someone's presence felt like home even when everything around you was chaotic. 

And in that quiet, familiar space, I realized that this was it. This was the beginning of something real.

Just then, Jungkook walked in, a grin on his face as he took a seat by the window─ not having to verbalize his order, because I knew. 

I smiled to myself as I tucked a fresh note under the coffee cup on the counter, one that I'd never said aloud. But I knew it was enough.

I'm glad you came back.

And this time, I wasn't afraid of him leaving.

♡