Sakura stood still in front of the building, reading the name again to be sure.
SAKARU
The letters glowed softly against the glass façade, elegant and restrained—just like the person who owned it. The restaurant was famous even outside business circles, whispered about as Koharu's private passion project. Sakura had passed by it countless times before, but today, standing here felt different.
Heavier.
She adjusted her coat, took a slow breath, and stepped inside.
The interior was calm, warm, filled with quiet luxury. Soft music played somewhere in the background. A few diners glanced up briefly, then returned to their meals, not recognizing her—or perhaps choosing not to.
The receptionist looked up with a polite smile.
"Good evening. Do you have a reservation?"
Sakura shook her head. "Excuse me… I want to meet Miss Koharu."
The smile didn't fade, but it stiffened slightly. "May I ask if you have an appointment?"
"No," Sakura admitted honestly. "I don't."
The receptionist hesitated, fingers hovering over the tablet. "I'm sorry, but without an appointment—"
"Please," Sakura said softly, cutting in before she could stop herself. "Just tell her Sakura is here to meet her."
The name lingered in the air.
Before the receptionist could respond, another voice joined in.
"She's not here."
Sakura turned.
Rinn stood a few steps away, dressed sharply as always, her expression unreadable. There was no surprise in her eyes—only recognition.
"She's out of the city," Rinn continued calmly. "Business trip."
Sakura's heart sank, though she had expected this answer. "I see…"
She hesitated, then gathered her courage. "Then… can I have her phone number?"
Rinn's gaze sharpened instantly.
"No," she said without hesitation.
The word landed harder than Sakura expected.
"We can't share that," Rinn added, her tone firm but not unkind. "Not under any circumstances."
Sakura swallowed. "I just want to talk to her. I won't cause trouble."
Rinn studied her closely, as if weighing something unseen. For a brief moment, Sakura thought she saw hesitation—maybe even pity.
But it vanished.
"She's trying to move on," Rinn said quietly. "You should too."
The words stung.
Sakura nodded slowly. "I understand."
She turned back toward the door, each step feeling heavier than the last. The warmth of the restaurant faded behind her, replaced by the cool air outside.
The lights of the city blurred slightly as her eyes burned.
She had come all this way, rehearsed words she didn't even know how to say—and still, she was leaving empty-handed.
No conversation.
No closure.
No chance.
As Sakura walked away, she didn't notice Rinn watching her through the glass, her expression conflicted.
Because Rinn knew something Sakura didn't—
That Koharu had asked about her every single day since that night.
And that sometimes, the hardest distance to cross wasn't cities or schedules—
—but pride, fear, and timing that never aligned.