Monday mornings at the office always felt like waking up underwater, fuzzy, slow, full of echoing movement and vague tasks left over from the Friday before. The fluorescent lighting buzzed like a lazy hornet, and someone from HR was already fussing with the coffee machine's paper filters again.
However there was something different in the air today. A certain shift. A tension, maybe. Like the fabric of routine had been stretched just slightly too thin.
Lin was already at her desk, thermos in one hand, the other typing like her fingers had somewhere urgent to be. Her bangs were pinned back. She only did that when she wanted zero distractions.
Our eyes met briefly.
"Morning," she said softly.
"Morning," I returned, careful not to sound too eager or too flat.
Her eyes lingered on mine just a moment longer than usual, then flicked back to her screen. I noticed a faint pink in her cheeks. That was new.
By mid-morning, we were holed up in one of the smaller glass-walled project rooms reviewing the new UI flowcharts. The kind of assignment that looked important but mostly required squinting at color-coded boxes and pretending we knew what upper management meant by "streamline engagement touchpoints."
The room was quiet in that oddly peaceful way. Laptop keys. Paper shuffling. A distant conversation echoing through the glass.
I passed her a sticky note with a doodle of a tiny cartoon computer yelling "BAD UX!" at a confused user. She looked at it and snorted unexpectedly, covering her mouth.
"You're secretly hilarious," she whispered, still smiling.
"Not a secret. Just heavily underappreciated," I deadpanned.
A quiet fell between us again, the comfortable kind of quiet.
Then she asked, almost absentmindedly, "Do you ever think about where you'll be in five years?"
I looked up from my screen.
"All the time. Usually while brushing my teeth and wondering if breakfast counts as a reason to stay employed."
She gave a little laugh, but her eyes stayed on the flowchart. "I thought I'd have things figured out by now. But lately, even the stuff I was sure of feels blurry."
I nodded. "I think most people fake certainty. It's easier than admitting we're just winging it."
I hesitated, then said, "I don't think we're meant to be certain. Just… present."
She looked up at me, and for a moment, the rest of the world blurred into soft color and warm static. Like we were the only ones left in the office.
That afternoon, a company-wide calendar invite dropped into everyone's inbox.
Subject: Corporate Restructuring Announcement – Mandatory Attendance
The entire breakroom froze. Even the microwave beeped nervously.
By 3:15, the sixth floor multipurpose room was at max capacity. People stood shoulder-to-shoulder, clutching mugs of half cold tea and whispering theories.
Even Kayla showed up, usually the human equivalent of a playlist on shuffle, now looking unusually quiet. Kenji leaned against the wall near her, hands buried in his hoodie pocket.
Someone behind me muttered, "This feels like the part in a movie where someone says, 'I'll be fine,' and then they aren't."
The VP stepped up to the mic.
"I'll keep this brief," she began, which meant it wasn't going to be.
A murmur passed through the crowd.
Departments were shifting. Teams were merging. New regional hubs were opening in Osaka, Singapore, and Vancouver. Relocation opportunities. Remote leadership roles. Buzzwords stacked on buzzwords.
When the word "Osaka" was mentioned, Lin didn't move, but I saw the way her fingers tightened around the strap of her tablet case.
Afterward, I caught up to her near the vending machines. She was staring at the options, but I doubt she saw any of them.
"You okay?" I asked.
She didn't answer for a moment.
"I thought I had more time," she said quietly.
"Maybe you still do."
She looked at me, eyes tired. "You really think I should stay?"
I hesitated, then replied, "I think you already know what you want. You're just waiting for someone else to say it first."
She didn't respond right away. But then, barely above a whisper, she said, "Thanks. For being here."
Later that night, Kenji and Kayla were walking the long way home from the station. It was one of those quiet city nights, where the air felt like it could rain but hadn't made up its mind.
"You've been weird lately," Kayla said, bumping his shoulder with hers.
"I'm always weird."
"Sure. But lately, it's been more like… emotionally constipated weird."
Kenji laughed dryly. "Wow. And you call me mean."
She stopped walking. "Spit it out, Kenji."
He stared ahead for a moment, then said, "I think I like you. Not in a vague, 'haha we should get coffee' kind of way. More like... 'I miss you even when you're sitting next to me' kind of way."
Kayla blinked.
"You're an idiot," she said finally. "You should've told me sooner."
Then she smiled. "I would've said yes."
Kenji stared at her. "Wait… was that a yes now or a retroactive yes?"
"Kenji."
"Okay, okay. Present tense yes. Got it."
She laughed, then kissed him on the cheek. "You're still buying dinner next time."
By Friday night, the week had folded into itself. Still no official decisions, no emails, no transfers confirmed. But something had shifted.
As I walked home, my phone buzzed.
"Do you want to help me pick out a plant for my apartment tomorrow?"
I stared at the screen for a full minute before replying.
"Yeah. I'd love to."
Something in me stirred—not hope exactly, but the promise of it. The possibility of something real.
A plant. A gallery. A desk lamp in a lonely painting.
Little things that meant more than big decisions.
Saturday morning, I stood outside the garden center. The kind of morning that made you feel like time wasn't in a rush.
Lin showed up ten minutes late, breath slightly caught, hair tied in a loose bun, and wearing a hoodie that said "Photosynthesis is my love language."
I chuckled the moment I read it.
"What?" she asked, catching me smiling.
"Nothing. You just… match the vibe."
She narrowed her eyes. "The vibe?"
"You're low-maintenance but nurturing. Like a succulent. The good kind."
Lin laughed loudly.
Inside, the air was thick with the smell of damp soil and whatever sunlight does when it mixes with humidity. Rows of plants in varying states of neediness lined the aisles. We wandered without talking much.
She ran her fingers along a string of pearl plants. I watched her as she looked at everything.
"You always liked plants?" I asked.
"They're easy to be around," she said. "They don't ask for much. And they grow quietly, even when you're not watching."
"You don't think people are like that too?" I asked.
She picked up a small jade plant, held it gently.
"Maybe," she said. "But people forget they deserve to grow. Or they wait for someone to remind them."
We stood there in that greenhouse, not needing to say anything else. And maybe that was the point.
Sometimes, things don't need to be figured out all at once.
Sometimes, they just need a place to grow.
We settled on a modest peace lily in a ceramic pot with painted koi fish.
"Got a name for it?" I asked, lifting it carefully as we headed for the register.
Lin thought for a moment. "Hmm. Maybe Mochi?"
I smirked. "That's disgustingly cute."
"Like you wouldn't name a plant Boba Fett or something."
"…Okay fair."
Outside, we sat on the bench beneath a cherry blossom tree that hadn't yet bloomed.
Lin cradled the plant in her lap.
She was quiet for a while. Then: "My dad's been nudging me about the Osaka rotation again."
There it was. The thing she hadn't said out loud.
"Are you thinking of taking it?" I asked.
"I thought I wanted to. I used to imagine myself living there, in some sleek apartment with a vending machine in the lobby and a neon skyline outside my window."
She paused, watching the sidewalk as people passed.
"I don't know," she whispered. "I think part of me wants to stay. Even if it makes no sense. Lately I've been thinking about my mom. She hated moving when she was young. Said staying in one place wasn't giving up, it was brave. That it took more guts to build a life than to keep running from one."
"And what do you want now?" I asked gently.
"I don't know," she said, barely above a whisper. "Part of me wants to stay. Even if it's messy. Even if I don't have all the answers."
I wanted to reach for her hand. I almost did. Instead, I said, "Then maybe it doesn't need to make perfect sense."
She looked at me like she was searching my face for something she hadn't noticed before.
Across town, in a ramen spot with cracked tiles and plastic stools, Kenji and Kayla sat across from each other. The shop was wedged between a laundromat and a manga café, with faded One Piece posters and steam fogging up the windows.
"So," Kenji said, twirling chopsticks nervously. "This is what a real date looks like?"
Kayla grinned, slurping a noodle. "Only if you're okay with me showing up in yesterday's hoodie."
"You're different outside of work," he said, almost surprised.
"Different how?"
"Not worse. Not better. Just… more real, maybe."
She poked at her egg. "It's easier to be loud than to be vulnerable. You ever feel that?"
Kenji swallowed. "Every day."
They sat there for a while, letting their walls down one quiet spoonful at a time. And in that tiny ramen shop, surrounded by clinking bowls and faded anime posters, infatuation was in the air.
That night, I lay in bed, staring at my phone screen, rereading Lin's message.
Thanks for today. Mochi's settling in nicely. :)
I typed a reply. Erased it. Typed again.
"I'm glad I got to be part of it. You're important to me."
A pause. The typing bubbles came and went. Came again.
"You're important to me too."
My chest tightened. Hope bloomed and broke and bloomed again.
Somewhere in the night, I realized I wasn't afraid of her leaving because I doubted her. I was afraid because for the first time in years, I wanted someone to stay.
Monday brought clouds that hovered low and heavy, turning the city into a slow, grayscale movie. The office felt muted. Just the usual background hum of machines and the soft clatter of keyboards.
I showed up early. Not to impress anyone, just because the quiet helped me think before the world got loud.
Luis shuffled in, balancing a breakfast sandwich and iced coffee in one hand while holding his shoulder bag.
"Do you ever sleep?" he asked, dropping into the seat across from mine in the break room.
"Sometimes," I said. "Other times I just… think."
"Thinking about Lin?"
I looked up. He was smirking, but not in a mean way.
I sighed. "She hasn't mentioned Osaka again. I don't want to bring it up because I'm afraid of what she'll say. But not knowing is eating at me."
Luis chewed thoughtfully. "Can I be honest?"
"That's why I brought you breakfast last week."
He grinned. "You're spiraling. Again. You overthink everything because it feels safer to predict the fall than to hope you'll land."
I didn't respond. Because he wasn't wrong.
"She's here. She likes you. You're not doing this alone," he added. "So stop acting like the world's going to collapse if you let yourself be happy."
I gave him a slow nod. A quiet part of me wanted to believe him. Maybe that part was finally growing.
Down the hall, Kenji stared at his monitor. A message sat open from someone he hadn't heard from in over a year.
Hey stranger. I'm in town. Lunch?
Elle.
He hadn't thought about her in months. Not seriously. Their almost-relationship had ended in a blur of late texts, missed signals, and bad timing.
He glanced over at Kayla's desk. She wasn't in yet. The empty seat next to his felt oddly noticeable.
He tapped out a reply.
"No thank you. I'm seeing someone."
He hesitated. Was that a lie? A hope? A declaration?
Just then, Kayla walked in with a green smoothie that looked a bit too healthy for Kenji's taste.
"Morning," she said, sliding into her chair.
"Hey," Kenji replied. Then, almost too fast, "Wanna grab lunch later?"
She raised an eyebrow. "You okay?"
He smiled. "Yeah. Just… figured we could."
Later that day, I found myself across from Lin in a cramped conference room, going over a long list of UI bugs. We were supposed to be focused, but she kept fidgeting, barely glancing at her screen.
"You alright?" I asked.
She hesitated. "I think I'm going to turn down Osaka."
I blinked. "Really?"
"I haven't told anyone yet. Not even Kayla."
"…Why?" I asked, careful with the softness of my voice.
Lin looked down at her hands. "Because I want to stay somewhere that feels real. Not just exciting or impressive. Just something that feels like home. And this place? These people? It's the first thing that's felt that way in a while."
She added quickly, "I'm not sure if that's a good enough reason."
"It's the best one I've heard," I said, and meant it.
That afternoon, rain started falling in slow, steady drops. By the time I left work, the sidewalks were slick and glistening.
I spotted Lin waiting at the bus stop, hood up, arms crossed, her shoes barely staying dry.
I jogged over with my umbrella. "Are you trying to catch a cold?"
She smiled. "It'd get me out of tomorrow's sprint planning."
I opened the umbrella above her. She linked her arm through mine naturally, and we started walking.
Neither of us said much. The sound of rain on the umbrella filled the silence.
"I used to love the rain," she said softly. "Until the day my dad left. It was raining that day."
I stayed quiet, listening.
"After that, every rainy day felt like waiting for someone to come back who never did."
I wanted to tell her I wasn't going anywhere. But words like that are easy to say and harder to live up to.
So instead, I walked beside her. Held the umbrella steady. And hoped she understood.
That night, I got home and called Kenji.
"She told me she might stay," I said as soon as he answered.
"That's good news, right?"
"I think so. I just… I don't want to mess this up."
Kenji paused. "Then don't."
I laughed. "Like it's that easy."
"You're overcomplicating it again. Just be real. That's what she sees in you."
"By the way," I added, "Luis told me about Elle."
Kenji groaned. "I told her I'm seeing someone. Now I have to actually start seeing someone."
"Kayla?"
He was quiet.
"…Yeah."
We didn't say anything for a moment. Then we both laughed. Not because anything was funny, but because it was real.
That same night, Lin sat on her bed, cradling her phone.
Kayla answered almost instantly. "So? What did he say?"
Lin smiled, not bothering to hide it. "Nothing. But... he held the umbrella."
"Oh girl," Kayla said with a sigh. "That's anime boyfriend behavior right there."
They both laughed.
And for a moment, all the indecision, the fear, the weight of future choices melted into something small and beautiful.
The next morning, the office buzzed with an unusual sense of urgency. Emails were already stacking up before nine, and then a vague calendar invite dropped into everyone's inbox:
Q3 Strategic Alignment + Staff Optimization Review
Which was corporate-speak for: "Everyone better look busy."
Luis sighed heavily, spinning slowly in his chair. "This early in the quarter? Seriously? What even is 'strategic alignment?'"
"Usually a fancy way to say 'some of you are screwed,'" I muttered, skimming the invite.
Kenji leaned over his monitor with a concerned look. "Heard it might be tied to budget cuts."
That was enough to shift the mood entirely. Conversations grew quieter. Even Kayla, who usually hummed Taylor Swift under her breath all morning, fell silent.
Even Kayla, usually unfazed, stopped humming under her breath.
"I don't like this," she said, frowning. "Every time they say 'optimization,' someone ends up crying in the break room."
By lunch, the rumor mill was spinning fast: departments merging, resignations floating around, and worst of all, UI Testing was apparently under review. The same team Kenji and I had recently rotated into.
Luis popped his head up over the divider. "Hey. You two are safe, right?"
Kenji shrugged. "We just got here. Makes us affordable."
"Which also makes us expendable," I added.
The silence that followed said it all.
Later that afternoon, Lin pulled me into one of the tiny glass huddle rooms with too-bright lighting and not enough space.
She looked exhausted, a half-empty cup of green tea clutched in both hands.
"Had my one-on-one with Emi," she said.
I raised an eyebrow. "And?"
"They're freezing some transfers. Not all, but some."
My stomach tightened. "Osaka?"
Lin nodded slowly. "Still on the table. But now they want a decision by next Friday."
"That's... ten days."
"Yeah."
We sat in silence for a few moments.
She stared at her tea. "I was hoping for more time. I thought maybe we'd find our rhythm here, see how things settle. But now it feels like I'm being pushed to make a call before I'm ready."
I hated the way my heart started to race.
My chest hurts. "I don't want you to go."
She looked at me like she wanted to say something too, but stopped herself. She nodded once, slowly, and stood up.
"I'll keep you posted," she whispered.
Back at our desks, Kenji and I were assigned a last-minute end of the week presentation: compare the old and new UI behaviors. A real CYA project for the higher-ups who didn't actually understand what we did.
We sat in front of our dual monitors, storyboarding the deck in silence.
"You alright?" Kenji asked, not looking away from the screen.
I half-shrugged. "Just thinking about her. Everything, really."
He leaned back in his chair, stretching with a yawn. "Have you ever thought about what you want your life to look like? Like, five or ten years from now?"
I gave him a side glance. "You've asked me that before."
"Yeah. But your answer always shifts. So I ask again to keep track."
I thought for a second. "I want something quiet. A little apartment near a station. Plants I'll forget to water. Some mugs by the sink. Someone I can come home to."
He didn't say anything for a second.
Then, gently, "Lin in that picture?"
I nodded. "If she wants to be."
Kenji nodded, typing something. "Still cheesy as hell. Then fight for that," he said. "Peace doesn't land in your lap. You have to carve it out."
I gave him a look. "What about you?"
He hesitated. "I think I've been guarding myself for so long, I forgot how to want things. But lately, when Kayla laughs, I stop feeling like I'm on edge. Like maybe I don't need to brace for everything."
I smiled. "You're doomed if this is just a crush."
"I know. But there are worse ways to go."
We both chuckled and turned back to our slides.
The next day, the entire floor was invited to an emergency "pulse check" meeting. Everyone stood awkwardly in the common area, coffee cups in hand, pretending not to be nervous.
Emi stood at the front, blazer pristine, voice unreadable.
"No layoffs," she announced.
Everyone exhaled at once.
"However, we're restructuring. Project resources and staffing will shift to meet new priorities. Some team members will be reassigned."
She didn't name names. But by afternoon, a new email was sent to Lin, Kayla, Kenji, and me: Project Reassignment – Pending Final Review.
That night, Kenji and I stayed behind running tests on the new patch. Kayla came by with snacks, dropping a can of peach tea next to Kenji without a word.
He looked up.
She shrugged. "You like peaches."
A quiet kind of warmth passed between them.
They worked side by side, Kayla occasionally teasing him about formatting errors, Kenji feeling deep betrayal. I watched them for a moment before pulling out my phone.
I pulled out my phone and messaged Lin:
Hey. Still up for coffee tomorrow morning?
My treat.
Her reply came seconds later.
Always.
The café Lin picked wasn't the kind of place you just stumbled into. It was tucked behind a florist, with a sign so faded it looked like it hadn't been touched since the early 2000s. You'd only find it if someone pointed it out. Even then, you might walk past it twice before the scent of espresso led you to the door.
Inside, the vibe was warm and cluttered in a comforting way. Jazz hummed low from a speaker that occasionally crackled like it was catching its breath. Shelves lined the walls with mismatched mugs, old manga volumes, and anime figurines that looked like they'd been rescued from someone's garage. It felt like a place built for people who needed a breather from the noise outside.
I got there early, and picked a window seat and ordered what I hoped she liked. Green tea latte and a plain scone for her, drip coffee and butter croissant for me. I was halfway through regretting it when the door opened and Lin walked in, shaking off the rain and brushing droplets from her coat.
"You're early," she said, setting her umbrella aside.
"I figured you would be too," I said.
She gave me a half smile and sat down. "Touché."
She noticed the latte I'd already placed near her side of the table.
"You remembered."
I shrugged, trying to look casual. "You complained about overly sweet stuff during a team dinner once. It just stuck."
"I'm… genuinely impressed," she said, wrapping her hands around the cup.
"I pay attention," I said, more softly than I meant to.
She glanced up at me, but didn't say anything. The silence wasn't uncomfortable. It just felt like there was something unspoken resting between us.
We talked about safe topics at first such as the UI prototype, Kayla's weekly war with the snack machine, the fact that our project manager still couldn't send an email attachment without crashing the server. Lin laughed easily, and for the first time in a while, I saw her shoulders drop, just slightly.
But there was something under the surface. Like her mind was half a step behind her words.
Eventually, I asked, "Is Osaka still a possibility?"
She went quiet, fingers tightening just slightly around her cup.
"They sent the offer over last night," she said.
I nodded slowly.
"It sounds like everything I used to want," she added. "Big title. Cross-functional leadership. All the buzzwords. It's what I thought would finally make me feel like I made it."
"And now?"
Lin exhaled, then ran her finger along the rim of her mug.
"I don't know anymore. I've been chasing this version of success for so long, and now that I'm close, it just feels kind of empty."
I let the quiet settle between us again.
"It's not just about the job," she said, almost to herself. "It's about what I'd be leaving behind. The people who get me. The rhythm of things. The way it feels being around certain people."
There was a pause.
"The way it feels around who?" I asked.
Lin hesitated, eyes fixed on her cup. "I just mean… things feel steady lately. I like that."
She was fidgeting with her napkin now. I could see her gears turning. The debate between saying what she felt and playing it safe. It felt like the world slowed down just enough for the truth to slip out.
Then, quietly, she said, "If I stayed, it wouldn't be because of the job."
Her eyes met mine. Steady. Clear.
"It'd be for—"
"Hi there!"
A cheerful voice sliced right through the moment. The waitress appeared, smiling, balancing a tray with extra drinks and a fresh plate of scones.
"Two green tea lattes and two croissants. Hope you're enjoying your afternoon!"
"Thanks," I mumbled, forcing a polite smile.
Lin leaned back, posture shifting. Her expression returned to the one she wore during meetings: composed, unreadable.
I waited for a bit.
"So, what were you going to say?" I asked.
She looked at me, and for a second I thought she'd pick up where she left off.
But then she shook her head. "Nothing serious. Just talking."
"Was it about me?" I teased gently.
"Nope," she replied, taking a bite of her scone. "Just… carbs."
Still, she looked at me over the rim of her cup, and her gaze lingered elsewhere.
We wandered the city after, walking slowly as the rain faded to a drizzle. The conversation drifted toward favorite anime openings, cursed printers, and our strong mutual stance that pineapple doesn't belong on pizza. But under it all, there was still that thread. That feeling that something had been left unsaid.
Back at my apartment, I sat on the edge of the couch with my phone in my hand. I hovered over Kenji's name.
I debated texting. Then, without thinking too much, I called.
He answered after two rings. "So. Are you married yet?"
"Dude," I muttered, scrubbing a hand through my hair. "I can't."
"Uh-oh." Kenji's voice shifted instantly. "Give me a second-" There was some rustling, followed by what sounded like the distant crinkle of snack wrappers. "Okay. Talk to me."
I sighed. "We had coffee."
"That's what people do when they're on dates."
"It wasn't officially a date."
"Did you sit across from each other, share pastries, and have an emotionally resonant conversation about your future?"
I paused. "...Yeah."
"Date," Kenji declared.
I flopped onto my couch. "She almost said something. Something big. I felt it. But then the waitress showed up and she-she just shut it down. Changed the subject like it never happened."
"Oh no," Kenji muttered. "Not the waitress intercept special."
"I should've said something, right?" I groaned. "Asked her what she meant, pushed a little. But I got scared. I always get scared."
Kenji was quiet for a beat. "Man. You like her, huh?"
I exhaled slowly. "Yeah. I do."
It was the first time I said it out loud.
And saying it didn't feel like a weight lifted - it felt like standing on a ledge and finally admitting you want to jump, but only if you know someone's there to catch you.
Kenji whistled softly. "You're in deep."
I nodded, though he couldn't see. "It's just that…I'm not really good at this."
"At what?"
"Feelings. Opening up. Risking something. Especially with her."
"You're better than you think," Kenji said. "You just don't realize it 'cause you've never let yourself try. But you're not as invisible as you think you are, man. She notices you."
I swallowed hard. "You really think so?"
"I know so," he replied. "So does Kayla."
"…Why would Kayla—"
"We were there."
"WHAT?"
"She forced me!" he shouted, instantly defensive. "She wanted to make sure you didn't bail halfway through like the socially awkward dude you are."
"You guys are-what the hell?! What's with you and stalking me and Lin!"
"Hey we observed. Supportedly. Look, I brought my own coffee. Didn't even spy directly. Just happened to check every few minutes that you hadn't climbed out a window."
I sighed, laughed despite myself, leaning my head back on the couch. "You people are the worst."
"We're your support system. Same thing."
I could hear the grin in his voice.
There was a pause, then I asked quietly, "What if I mess this up?"
"You will," he said without missing a beat. "But screwing up doesn't mean it's over. People who care don't bail when things get messy."
I closed my eyes.
"She's thinking about moving," I said eventually. "Osaka's not a maybe anymore. It's real."
Kenji was quiet for a long moment. "Then make your time count."
His voice was steady.
"I'm rooting for you," he added. "If it all crashes and burns, I'll show up with soba and a K-drama marathon. But until then? Stop holding back."
I smiled faintly. "Deal."
We hung up not long after. But the words stayed with me as I lay in bed later, staring at the ceiling, letting the warmth of the café replay on loop.
Maybe I was terrible at reading signs.
Maybe she almost said something. Or maybe I imagined it all.
But even with that, I didn't feel regret.
Later that night…
Lin lay sprawled across her bed in yesterday's hoodie, one leg tangled in the blanket, her phone perched on the edge of her pillow. The screen kept lighting up from Kayla's texts stacking on top of each other. Notification after notification blaring.
[Kayla]: PICK UP. I'M OUTSIDE YOUR WINDOW.
[Kayla]: (I'm not, but I could be.)
[Kayla]: YOU POSTED THAT CAFE. ANSWER ME RIGHT NOW.
[Kayla]: TELL ME IF IT WAS A DATE BEFORE I DIE.
Lin sighed, dramatically flopping the blanket over her face. She gave it another five seconds, then finally gave in and hit the call button.
"Kayla, for the love of all things caffeinated—"
"WAS. IT. A. DATE?!" Kayla shouted before Lin could finish. "YES OR NO. DO NOT EVADE."
Lin groaned into her pillow. "Lower your voice. My soul is still rebooting."
"So that's a yes."
"It's a 'maybe-was-a-date-that-felt-like-a-date-but-wasn't-labeled-as-a-date' sort of thing," Lin mumbled.
Kayla gasped dramatically. "Unlabeled romantic tension? Oh my god. That's textbook main character behavior. I'm living."
"We went to that café behind the florist," Lin said, tugging the blanket tighter. "He got my order. Like… my order. I didn't even say anything."
"Hold on," Kayla said. "He remembered you don't like sweet drinks?"
Lin nodded, even though Kayla couldn't see it. "Green tea latte, no syrup. And a plain scone. Just… slid it across the table like it was nothing."
Kayla made a sound that could only be described as a squeal muffled by a pillow. "Ugh. I hate him. I love him. I hate-love him."
"I almost told him," Lin said quietly.
"Told him…?" Kayla's voice shifted.
"I don't know," Lin admitted. "Everything. That I'm scared to take the Osaka job. That part of me doesn't want to go. That he's the reason I keep hesitating."
"You didn't say any of that, did you."
"I was going to." Lin exhaled slowly. "And then the drinks came. The moment passed. I made some dumb joke about talking about carbs. And just like that, it was over."
Kayla let out a groan like she'd physically dropped to the floor. "NoOOOOOO. Not the latte interception."
"Yeah. Classic caffeine cockblock."
There was a pause, filled only by the faint city noise outside Lin's window.
"Do you think he knows?" Kayla asked, softer now.
"I think…" Lin hesitated. "I think he suspects. But he deflects. Like, whenever I start to say something real, he shifts the mood. Cracks a joke. Change the subject."
Kayla was quiet for a beat, then said, "You two are literally the most emotionally constipated duo I've ever seen."
"That's rich coming from someone who changed her Insta bio to 'emotionally unavailable but cute about it.'"
"Hey, I own my chaos," Kayla said proudly. "But you, oh my god, you're like two shy random side characters who keep barely brushing their hands in the hallway and then pretending it didn't happen."
Lin laughed. It shook something loose in her chest.
Kayla's voice softened again. "So, what now?"
"I don't know," Lin said. "But when we sat there just drinking coffee, listening to that awful jazz cover of 'Take On Me' playing in the background, and he smiled like he didn't want to be anywhere else. It made me think. Maybe staying doesn't mean I gave up. Maybe it just means I picked something different. Something I actually want."
"I think I'd miss him," Lin said, barely above a whisper. "Not just the project, or the late-night bug fixes, or even the stupid team lunches. Just him."
A quiet moment passed between them.
"Girl," Kayla said. "That wasn't 'almost love.' That was love with subtitles."
"I will not. I am now fully invested in this relationship arc. I'm buying you both matching mugs."
"Oh no."
"One says 'Emotionally Stunned.' The other says 'So Am I.'"
Lin laughed hard to the point she nearly knocked her phone off the bed. "You are the worst."
"You're welcome," Kayla replied sweetly.
There was a long pause.
Then Lin said, quieter now, "Thanks. For, you know, being on my side."
Kayla's voice was warm. "Always. Now go to sleep and dream about him awkwardly reaching for the check."
"Already there," Lin murmured.
After they hung up, Lin didn't move. She stared at her lock screen for a while. The photo was from the last company mixer: her, Kayla, Kenji, and him. He wasn't even looking at the camera. Just laughing at something Kenji had said, a bit of cake frosting on his cheek.
She stared at that moment frozen in pixels and wondered: if she asked him to stay in that moment a little longer, would he?
Her phone buzzed again. This time it was a new message.
[Him]: Let me know if you make a decision.
[Him]: I'll walk with you, either way.
She read it three times before locking her phone again, placing it on her nightstand, and closing her eyes.
For the first time in weeks, she didn't feel like she had to choose between forward or backward. Maybe, just maybe, she could stay, even just a little longer, in the space between.
And maybe that was enough, for now.