It had been over a month since Hana last saw Ryo.
The ramen shop had continued to run smoothly—Kenta and Mei had been great help, but something felt off. There was an emptiness Hana couldn't shake. Ryo had been a regular presence at the shop, and though his stoic silence had never been easy to read, Hana had grown accustomed to his quiet presence. His absence, however, left a void that made her heart ache in ways she hadn't expected.
The first few days were normal enough. Hana had told herself that maybe Ryo was just busy, caught up in something. After all, he had mentioned his "work" before, though never in detail. But as the days turned into weeks, her concerns grew. His chair at the counter remained empty, and there was no sign of him. Hana tried to push away the worry, telling herself that he was just occupied with something important, but deep down, she knew something wasn't right.
She had sent him messages. At first, a simple "Are you okay?" followed by a "Hope everything's fine." When there was no reply, her messages became more desperate, pleading for him to just respond. She had even left a few voice messages, each one filled with concern. But still, no response.
It was late one evening when Hana's worries reached their peak. The shop was quieter than usual, and with most of the evening customers already gone, Hana found herself alone with her thoughts. Kenta and Mei had both gone home, leaving her with only the dim light of the shop to keep her company.
Sitting at the counter, Hana absentmindedly stirred a bowl of ramen she wasn't even planning to eat. Her phone sat in front of her, the screen flashing with no new messages from Ryo. She had tried calling him once more, but as expected, it had gone straight to voicemail.
She put the phone down with a sigh, rubbing her tired eyes. "Where are you, Ryo?" she whispered to herself, her voice barely above a breath.
The silence in the shop felt suffocating. She missed the way Ryo's presence had made the atmosphere feel different—calmer, somehow. She thought back to their time together on vacation, to the way he had opened up just a little. He had seemed so real then, like maybe he was finally letting down the walls he'd built around himself. But now, he seemed like a ghost, slipping away from her life with no explanation.
Just as Hana was about to lose herself in her thoughts, the door to the ramen shop creaked open. Hana jumped, her heart racing as she looked toward the entrance.
But it wasn't Ryo.
A customer walked in, and Hana quickly wiped away the moisture that had gathered in her eyes. She forced a smile, hoping her face didn't show the concern that had consumed her for the past month.
The evening passed quietly, and when the shop finally closed, Hana felt a strange sense of emptiness settle over her. She had prepared herself for the possibility that Ryo might not come back. But the thought of him vanishing without a word hurt more than she could have ever anticipated.
As she locked up the shop, her phone buzzed. It was a message, and for a moment, Hana's heart skipped. She quickly grabbed it, praying that it was from Ryo. But when she saw the name on the screen, her heart sank.
It was from Kenta.
"Hey, Hana, how are you doing? Everything okay? We've all noticed you've been a little down lately. Let us know if you need anything!"
She stared at the message for a long moment. It was kind, but it didn't bring the comfort she was hoping for. Kenta was her friend, but he wasn't Ryo. The one person she wanted to hear from the most was the one who still hadn't replied.
As she sat on the small bench outside the ramen shop, Hana found herself lost in thought again. The worry gnawed at her, the questions swirling in her mind. What had happened to Ryo? Why wasn't he answering?
Had something gone wrong? Was he in danger? Did he want to leave, or had something else happened to him?
The unanswered questions lingered, and Hana felt the weight of the unknown settle heavily in her chest. As she stared up at the starless sky, she couldn't help but feel that her world, once so full of warmth and laughter, had grown colder in the absence of the man who had once silently entered her life and changed it in ways she didn't fully understand.