Chapter 40: The Girl at the Bus Stop

Ren didn’t plan to become a regular at H & M Café. It just happened.

One visit turned into two.

Two turned into a week.

A week turned into a habit.

Every evening after work, he found himself walking toward the little corner café without thinking. Haru and Mina made fun of him for it.

“Oh look, our number one customer is back,” Haru said one afternoon, pretending to straighten his imaginary tie. “VIP treatment today?”

“Please,” Mina scoffed, passing Ren a glass of water. “If he’s a VIP, then you’re a world-class barista.”

“I am!”

“You burn milk.”

“That was one time!”

“Three times this week.”

Ren laughed and took his usual seat. Watching them bicker had become comforting. They were married, and somehow still acted like childhood rivals arguing over who got the last piece of candy. He didn’t know why, but it felt natural to sit here listening to them go back and forth.

Like they had been part of his life for years.

Like he had known them before he actually met them.

He tried not to overthink it.

The café was warm.

They were warm.

He liked it here.

And Haru and Mina treated him like… a friend.

Somehow that word fit well, even though they still knew nothing about each other’s past. But there was this odd familiarity between them that none of them could explain.

“Ren, you’re spacing out again,” Mina said, placing a pastry in front of him. “Here. On the house.”

He blinked. “Why?”

“You work too much.”

“And he looks lonely,” Haru added before Mina flicked his forehead.

“Don’t call customers lonely!”

Ren smiled quietly. They didn’t know how right they were, but he appreciated them saying it without pity.

Days passed like that.

Work, café, laughter, warm drinks.

A quiet routine that made life feel peaceful again.

But the empty space inside him still stirred sometimes, especially at night, especially when he walked home alone.

Like someone was missing from his world.

Someone important.

He didn’t know who.

One evening, the sky darkened early. Rain clouds rolled in, though the air stayed warm. Ren stayed a little longer at the café talking with Mina about a new dessert idea and listening to Haru rant about taxes.

“You two fight more than you work,” Ren teased.

“We fight because we work,” Mina replied.

“And because she refuses to admit that I am—”

“You’re not.”

“—the genius of this café!”

Mina groaned and threw a dish towel at him.

Ren laughed again. “You two really feel like… old friends.”

Haru and Mina paused.

Then they exchanged a look. A strange one.

Confused, thoughtful, a little unsettled.

“Yeah,” Haru said softly. “Feels that way on our end too.”

Mina crossed her arms. “It’s like we’ve jokingly fought in front of you before.”

“Years ago,” Haru added, scratching the back of his neck. “But we only met two months ago.”

Ren looked at them.

They looked at him.

Something passed between them.

Something quiet and shapeless.

They didn’t understand it.

None of them did.

But they didn’t push it either.

After closing time, Ren waved goodbye and stepped out into the cool evening breeze. The air smelled like rain, and the streetlights flickered.

He headed toward the bus stop at the corner.

He wasn’t thinking of anything in particular when he saw her.

A girl stood alone at the stop sign.

Black hair tied slightly to the side.

A red ribbon fluttered gently in the wind.

Ren froze.

His chest tightened—not painful, just sharp, like someone plucked a chord inside him.

She stood with her back turned. Something about her silhouette, the way she held her hands together, the soft posture… it felt like déjà vu.

She turned her head a little. Not enough to see her face. Just enough for the ribbon to sway.

Something inside Ren whispered.

Her.

His heart thumped hard.

He didn’t know why.

He didn’t know who she was.

But something pulled him toward her.

Before he realized it, he was walking faster.

Then jogging.

Then running.

“Wait—!”

The words slipped out instinctively.

He didn’t understand them.

He couldn’t stop them.

The girl turned.

For a single moment—

just half a heartbeat—

Ren saw her profile.

Soft eyes.

A gentle expression.

A look that felt like a memory he had lost long ago.

Then the bus arrived.

Its doors opened.

The girl stepped inside.

Ren sprinted.

“Wait!”

But the doors closed.

The bus pulled away.

Too fast.

He reached the stop, out of breath, staring as the bus disappeared down the road.

The red ribbon was gone.

The girl was gone.

His heart pounded.

Not from running.

From something deeper.

He didn’t know who she was.

He didn’t know why he chased her.

But as the wind blew past him, he felt a warmth in his chest—

the same one that had been hollow for years—

flare with an emotion he couldn’t name.

Longing.

Recognition.

Love.

Loss.

Maybe all of them.

He didn’t understand it.

He only knew one thing:

He had seen her before.

Somewhere in a life he couldn’t remember.