Chapter 39: Something Familiar in the Distance

Years moved the way slow rivers do. Quiet, steady, impossible to notice until Ren looked back and realized whole seasons had passed.

He graduated.

He found a job at a small design company.

He learned to cook a little, started drinking better coffee, and even rented his own apartment.

Life flowed forward.

But the hollow place in his heart never closed.

Most days he lived like anyone else his age, joking with co-workers, stressing over deadlines, staying up late just because he could. But every so often he would stop mid-step on the sidewalk or pause while stirring soup and feel it again—that soft tug inside him.

Like someone was calling him.

Like someone was missing.

He didn’t know who.

He didn’t know why.

But the ache was gentle now, almost peaceful, like a quiet promise he didn't understand.

His friends teased him sometimes.

“Ren, you look like you're daydreaming about a girl.”

He laughed it off, but the words always hit deeper than they should.

A girl…

Maybe that was it.

Or maybe it wasn’t.

Time kept moving. He settled into his career, worked late nights, got invited to gatherings he always forgot to RSVP to. It was a comfortable life. Not perfect, but steady. Yet sometimes, when he passed a certain street or heard a certain wind chime, his chest tightened.

A memory that wasn’t a memory.

A name he couldn’t recall.

A warmth that once belonged to him.

On a quiet Sunday afternoon, craving something sweet after a long week, Ren wandered into a street he didn’t usually visit. A new sign caught his eye:

H & M Café

Coffee, comfort, and chaos.

Ren chuckled. “Chaos? That’s honest advertising.”

He stepped inside. The soft ring of the doorbell sounded strangely pleasant, almost nostalgic. The place smelled like caramel and roasted beans. Wooden tables, warm lights, plants hanging from the ceiling.

He liked it immediately.

“Welcome! Just sit anywhere!” a cheerful voice called from behind the counter.

Ren froze.

The guy waving at him had messy hair, sharp eyes, and a grin that felt familiar in a way Ren couldn’t explain.

He blinked.

The man blinked.

For a moment, they both tilted their heads, wearing the same puzzled expression.

“Have we met?” the guy asked.

Ren shook his head slowly. “I… don’t think so.”

But the tug in his heart stirred.

Not painful.

Just warm.

Before Ren could respond, a woman stepped out from the kitchen, smacking the guy lightly on the arm.

“Haru! Stop asking every male customer that question. People will think this is a shady café.”

“Oh come on, Mina. I’m being friendly!”

“You’re being weird!”

Ren stared.

Haru?

Mina?

The names slipped into his mind effortlessly, as if they belonged there. But they meant nothing to him. They shouldn’t. He didn’t know them.

Yet seeing them together—bickering, pushing each other around, completely in sync—filled Ren with a strange wave of relief.

He didn’t know why.

He just felt… happy.

“Uh, welcome,” Mina said, recovering her professional smile. “Sorry about the chaos. Please sit. Haru will take your order. He’s useless but friendly.”

“Wow,” Haru muttered, rolling his eyes. “Thanks, babe.”

“Only speaking the truth.”

Ren sat at a small table near the window. Haru came over with a menu, still mumbling about unfair treatment. Mina shouted something from the kitchen about his handwriting being terrible.

Ren laughed. Really laughed.

It came out so naturally that Haru paused.

“You okay, man?”

“Yeah,” Ren said, smiling without knowing why. “I just… like this atmosphere.”

Haru grinned. “Good. We worked hard for it. And somehow didn’t kill each other.”

“Yet,” Mina yelled from the back.

Ren’s heart warmed again.

He didn’t know these two.

They didn’t know him.

But the space between them felt comfortable, like bumping into old friends you had forgotten you missed.

He ordered a caramel latte. Mina brought it out herself.

“Here you go. Haru tried to make it but I confiscated the milk before he ruined it.”

“I made one bad latte six months ago!” Haru protested.

“You’ve made three bad lattes this week.”

Ren watched them go back and forth. It was funny. It was gentle. It was familiar in a way he couldn’t explain.

As he sipped his drink, a tiny sting pricked behind his eyes—a strange emotion he couldn’t name.

Not sadness.

Not longing.

More like recognition without memory.

Like meeting pieces of a past erased.

Haru walked by his table and paused. “You’re smiling again. Must be a good drink.”

“Yeah,” Ren said softly. “It’s… really good.”

He looked around the café. The warm lights. The laughter. The bickering. The peace.

His heart gave a quiet, steady thump.

For the first time in a long while, the hollow part felt less empty.

As if something lost had brushed past him and whispered:

You’re not alone.

Ren didn’t know what that meant.

But he knew this much—

He would be coming back here.

Many times.

Even if he couldn’t explain why.

Even if he couldn’t remember who he was searching for.

Something inside him whispered that this place mattered.

And that someday…

someone else would matter again too.