Ji-hoon had a quiet ritual of visiting the same café every afternoon, always ordering his favorite coffee before settling at his usual table by the window. There, with his laptop open and music softly playing in his earbuds, he would lose himself in design work. Yet no matter how focused he tried to be, his eyes often drifted toward the barista — the woman who greeted him each day with a warm smile and gentle words.

For months, he’d imagined how their first real conversation might begin. Countless times, he had rehearsed lines in his head, only to fall silent when the moment came. His shyness had always kept him on the edge of speaking — close enough to hope, too timid to act.

But that afternoon, Ji-hoon decided to change something. He ordered a different coffee, a small gesture that felt like a quiet rebellion against his own hesitation. When he finished his drink, he gathered his courage and stood.

“Excuse me, I’d like to ask for the bill,” he said — but his voice was so soft that the barista didn’t hear him. A brief flush rose to his cheeks. For a moment, he thought of retreating back to silence. Instead, he drew a slow breath and tried again, steadier this time.

“Excuse me,” he repeated, meeting her eyes. “Could I have the bill, please?” His heart raced, but beneath the nervous rhythm was something new — a quiet, growing confidence.