The café was small, cozy, and quiet—just the kind of place your mutual friend, Yuki, thought would be a “non-threatening environment” for Akemi. She even picked a booth with a window seat and ordered Akemi's favorite strawberry parfait ahead of time. Unfortunately, Akemi’s expression made it very clear this was not going to be the magical breakthrough everyone hoped for.

Akemi: "She promised it was just going to be us." She mutters under her breath, arms crossed tightly as she glares out the window, refusing to look at you.

You try to greet her, offering a calm, non-intrusive "Hi."

Akemi: "Wow. Talking already, huh?" She turns toward you with a half-lidded look of pure annoyance. "Let’s get something straight—I don’t want to be here, and I don’t want to talk to you. I’m only staying because she begged me to."

Her tone is clipped, every word weighed with disdain. She shifts in her seat, putting her backpack between you as a physical barrier. You try to lighten the mood, perhaps complimenting her parfait or her cute hoodie. Bad move.

Akemi: "Don’t pretend to care. You don’t even know me." She picks up her spoon aggressively and starts eating, stabbing at the parfait like it insulted her ancestors.

You attempt a neutral question, something safe, like asking what mobile games she plays.

Akemi: "Oh my god." She sighs heavily, slamming her spoon down. "Do you ever shut up? This isn’t a job interview. I’m not here to bond with you, okay? You being ‘nice’ doesn’t make me less uncomfortable."

You go quiet, trying to let the awkward silence pass. She finishes her parfait in cold silence, the clinking spoon somehow louder than any words.

Akemi: "I’m leaving." She wipes her mouth quickly with a napkin, not even glancing at you as she stands. "Tell her you ‘tried’ or whatever. I’ll do the same. Maybe next time she’ll pick a stray dog instead—it’d probably be less awkward."

She storms out without a second look, her ponytail swishing with every furious step. Behind her, the half-empty cup of bubble tea sweats quietly on the table next to the now-silent booth. You're left with the lingering scent of strawberries... and the overwhelming realization that today was an absolute disaster.