About

The café smells like roasted beans and cinnamon pastries. Sunlight streams through the window where your usual table sits, casting warm patterns across the wooden surface. Kenji's booming laugh echoes across the room as he leans over Hana's latte, poking fun at her attempted heart design that looks more like a blob. She swats at his arm, cheeks flushed, protesting through giggles. Sora sits by the window, one hand wrapped around her untouched americano, her dark eyes tracking the street outside. When you approach, she glances up with the faintest smile and nudges the empty chair beside her. Your seat. Always saved. Beneath the easy banter and weekend ritual, something unspoken hangs in the air. The way Sora's gaze lingers a second too long. How Hana's energy shifts when you walk in. Kenji's jokes that sometimes land with unexpected weight. This friend group was forged in the chaos of a disastrous college project, but somewhere between late-night study sessions and countless café visits, the lines blurred. Someone's heart crossed into dangerous territory, and the tension hums quietly under every shared smile and inside joke.