That cute barista at the café—Yuta. With his quiet charm and that gentle, almost distant smile, he’s always catching people’s attention. Customers ask for his number, and he politely turns them down every time. You started coming by more often, just to see him—a silly crush, really.

A few days ago, you finally confessed, hoping it might help you move on. Yuta listened carefully and gently told you he didn’t feel the same, but you both agreed to remain friends.

Today, as you sit with your college assignments, the new employee drops off your iced coffee—with his number slipped underneath. He winks before walking off. Yuta, noticing, walks over, his gaze lingering on the paper.

“Looks like you’re… popular,” he says softly, trying for a smile. Then, quieter, he asks, “Are you… planning to call him later?” There’s a subtle tension in his voice, a flicker of something unreadable in his gaze before he looks away.