Deon awoke the next morning still feeling the glow of last night. His face hurt from the stupid smile that had been plastered on it since dropping her off at her room. It hadn't even gone away while he slept. He felt like he was floating as he rose from bed and stretched his body. The usual creak of his bones was gone today. The stiffness in his neck and shoulders—nonexistent. It was like a weight he'd been unknowingly carrying had suddenly lifted. Everything just felt good.
He reached for his phone. Several new messages, but his eyes went straight to one name. The others didn't even register.
Amina.
The already broad smile grew even broader. He opened the message as quickly as his fingers would allow.
Amina: Good morning. Last night was...😁. But I'd love to see you again. Need to, really. I don't want to say the rest in a text, so... 9 AM, our café? You don't have to respond. That's where I'll be if you want a proper goodbye.
He checked the time—8:20. Enough time to take a quick shower and get over there. It didn't matter what she had to say; he had a few things he wanted to get off his chest as well. From the tone of her message, there was no way this was going to be a negative conversation.
"This could be the start of something new," he sang to himself.
I really need to grow up, he thought as he jumped into the shower.
⸻
He arrived at the quiet café they'd gone to the day before for breakfast. He was a bit early—8:45 AM. He settled into a booth and waited for her to arrive.
She walked in about five minutes later, dressed in her usual low-key style but with some key changes. She still wore an anime hoodie, but instead of her loose-fitting baggy jeans, she had on a skirt. Instead of her well-worn sneakers, she wore stylish sandals. It was a mix of her casual self and the sexy confidence she'd shown on their first date. He was really liking this new look. It might even be his favorite.
He watched her scan the room until their eyes met. Her face lit up, and she flashed him a beaming smile that made his heart skip a beat. She strolled over and sat next to him instead of across from him. Almost as if he'd expected it, he made room before she even reached the table.
"So you came," she said, brushing shoulders with him while glancing down at the menu, pretending to read it.
"Was there ever a doubt?" he replied, taking the menu away and turning her to face him.
"I was using that."
"Doubtful."
"Oh? How can you be so sure?"
"I'm a bit of a detective."
"Oh? Do tell."
"Well, I have it on good authority that you frequent this place. You also seem like the type of girl who knows what she wants. So, if you come here often and know what you want, there's no way you walked through that door without knowing exactly what that was."
"Not bad. But here's a real question for you, detective. What is it that I wanted?"
"Oh, that's tricky—but also easy enough. What you came for isn't on the menu at all. You came for closure."
"Ding, ding, ding," she said, imitating the ringing of a bell. "You're spot on. That's exactly what I'm in the mood for."
He put the menu back on the table. They maintained eye contact for what should have been an uncomfortably long time, but instead, it felt like they were speaking directly to each other's souls. He could sense her anxiety, and she could feel his longing. But most of all, they sensed each other's regret.
"What happens in Okinawa, right?" she said finally, dropping her gaze.
"Yeah," he said after a brief pause.
"It's not like either of us is stupid enough to fall in love on vacation with a total stranger," she said with half a laugh.
"I might be that stupid," he admitted, a twinge of pain in his voice.
She felt a sting in her eyes at his words and resisted the urge to let tears fall. She refused to let her heart be swayed so easily, like a teenager in love—but in this moment, she struggled to see how falling in love as a grown-up was any different. If anything, this emotion felt stronger than any she'd ever had before.
"Say something, I'm giving up on you," he sang in a jesting tone, trying to lighten the mood.
She snorted and fell into a comfortable laugh, so genuine he knew it was real. "You're so unserious," she said, wiping tears from her eyes. She was grateful—she could let the tears fall and blame them on the laughter instead of the ache in her chest at the thought of getting on the plane that would carry her away from Okinawa, from this dream, from him. Maybe that had been his intention—to give her a reason to cry without saying goodbye outright. Another gift.
He was thoughtful like that.
She pondered how she could be so certain of that. He was virtually a stranger, but in these four days, she'd come to feel as comfortable with him as she did with herself. A scary thought. His next words pulled her back to reality.
"Nah. I'm the serious type. A real stickler, actually. I just want all the moments we have together to be sunshine and rainbows."
"That's a lot of effort for a fling," she said, trying to downplay the relationship, hoping to speak it into existence.
"It could've been a fling. Maybe should've been. But for me, this has been an oasis in a desperate time," he said, looking away from her for the first time.
She just stared at his profile, searching for the right words but choking on every coherent thought. What came out instead was, "What does that even mean?" It sounded halfway between a question and a statement—like she wasn't sure what she was questioning or if she even needed to. Half of her already understood.
"I'm just dealing with something complicated."
"Another woman?"
"Yeah. But I'm not dating her or anything—we go way back and—" he cut himself off, unwilling to continue.
Her heart sank, thinking she might just be part of some affair. "I see."
"I think you might see a little. But I can also see you searching for a glimmer of something else too."
"And what is it that you're detecting?"
"You tell me," he said, turning back to her.
"That you're hopelessly in love with this mystery woman. But also..."—she hesitated, gathering her thoughts—"...you're hopeless about me too."
"Am I that easy to read?" he asked, his expression brightening.
"I told you—books are easier to read when you're interested."
"You did. You surely did. So... what's on your nightstand?"
"Something amazing. But I think I've reached the end. The story's been so good I want a little more. I'm reluctant to turn the page," she said, looking down at her hands.
They sat in silence for a short while before he spoke again.
"Ah, that familiar feeling when you finish a good anime—that empty feeling that washes over you as you wonder, 'What next?'"
"Mhm." She looked down at her watch. "Well, I think my time is up. Got a plane to catch."
"Can I see you off?"
"I don't think you should."
"Just a few moments longer. Please."
"Please don't make it harder. It's taking all I have to stand up and leave here knowing you aren't coming with me."
Those words froze him. She was struggling too. Was a few more minutes worth the extra heartache?
Undoubtedly. But that was his feeling. For her—perhaps not. He couldn't be so selfish. Not now.
"I see," he said finally. "Well, you have my number. If you get bored, hit me up."
She nodded, eyes on the floor. He stood and gave her a hug goodbye—maybe too long of a hug. When they separated, she turned and left without another word. He watched as she walked away without looking back. Then she was gone.
Suddenly, the lightness he'd been feeling was replaced by a heaviness more intense than before. The weight of regret, perhaps—but he wouldn't follow her, even though his heart screamed for him to. He'd respect her decision to leave this love in Okinawa. Just another pain he'd have to learn to live with.
Out of habit, he unlocked his phone and checked his messages.
1 from Jordy.
Jordy: The souvenir better be amazing!
Yeah, okay, he thought, closing the message without responding.
The second was from work, asking if he could cover a shift. He sent back a quick I'm out of the country, so no. Then he opened the final message—from Sierra.
Sierra: Brunch.
He sighed deeply before responding: Sure. Then he slipped his phone into his pocket.
"Put it behind you, bro," he whispered to himself as he exited the café without looking back—just as she had.