She let her head fall back against the chair, her gaze drifting toward the window. The town outside lay beneath a blanket of quiet—grey, lifeless, with only the faint hum of streetlights painting thin gold lines across the pavement.

She watched the occasional flicker of headlights cut through the night, but it all felt distant, as if she wasn't really part of the world beyond the glass.

It's too quiet. The café felt too still. Even Jimin's light shuffling in the background did little to ground her.

Why does it feel like everything stops the second I sit still?

Maria's gaze lowered slightly, catching the faint reflection of herself in the glass. The dark shadows under her eyes felt heavier tonight. She shifted her focus to the faint glow of the lamppost outside instead.

Was she that desperate, not to be alone tonight... that she let a stranger be so close to her, in the same space. Her focus blurred, swallowed by the dark stretch of the street beyond it. The town looked lifeless at this hour—silent, still, like it didn't care if she sat there or not.

Why does it feel like I'm chasing something that isn't even there?

The thought settled heavily in her chest, unwelcome but familiar. How many years had it been now? How many nights like this—alone, running after a shadow that always stayed just out of reach?

What happens if I stop running? The thought echoed in the empty café, curling around her like smoke.

If I stop chasing the ghost... what else is left?

That question had haunted her more than anything else. It wasn't the chase that terrified her—it was the stillness. The not knowing. The fear that maybe... there was nothing beyond this. No purpose. No finish line. Just her and the hollow space she'd been trying to outrun for years.

Her reflection in the glass window looked as tired as she felt.

How long can I keep pretending I'm not exhausted? If I stop chasing ghosts... will there be anything left of me?

The café felt too quiet, too open, like the silence was pressing in on her. Behind her, Jimin's soft footsteps echoed faintly, he walked up to her carrying two cups of steaming latte in hand. Jimin placed the cup in front of her with deliberate care, his fingers lingering just a second longer before letting go. She didn't look up right away—her gaze stayed fixed on the swirling steam rising between them.

"You know this is my job, right?" she said quietly, the faintest trace of sarcasm lacing her words.

Jimin settled across from her, a smile plastered to his lips, hands wrapped around his own cup. "Yeah, I figured. But it looked like you were a little busy staring out at the ghost town. Someone had to step in."

Her lips twitched at his comment, but the smirk faded too quickly. She finally met his eyes. "You don't work here, let me remind again"

"Good thing I'm not expecting a paycheck," he shot back, leaning his elbow on the counter. "Besides, this probably isn't the worst cup of coffee you've had."

She exhaled softly, still hesitant to touch the warm cup. But it wasn't enough to stop the ache pressing against her ribs. "I didn't ask for this" she murmured.

Jimin's eyes softened, lingering on her bandaged hand. "I know. But you didn't have to." He could see the problem but hesitated to cross a boundary that could make things go downhill.

She looked away searching something in the cold void on the other side of the window.

Jimin watched her carefully. His voice dipped lower, quieter, as if speaking too loud might shatter something fragile. "You know, I have known you from a couple of weeks now and I can see you have this habit of... pretending you're okay when you're obviously not."

She didn't answer, but her shoulders tensed.

She wasn't the type to let someone in so easily, it surely was the medication effect that kept her mask cracked enough for him to see the vulnerable wounded soul.

"You can keep saying you're fine, Maria. Hell, you're stubborn enough to almost make me believe it. But then there's this—" He gestured toward her hand. "You can't fake your way out of burns."

Her jaw tightened. "It's not a big deal."

"It is to me" he replied instantly, the weight behind his words catching her off guard.

And it left Jimin shocked too but he spoke fast leaning in slightly to cover his own exposure. "Look, I'm not trying to make this into some dramatic moment. But you're sitting here at two in the morning, hands burned, staring at nothing like the world's caving in on you. And you're just... okay with that?"

Her chest constricted. The air felt heavier between them, but she still didn't lift her head.

"It's not about being okay with it" she said after a long pause. "As I said, It's just easier to let it be."

Jimin's eyes searched her face, like he was piecing together parts of her she hadn't meant to show. "Letting it be isn't the same as healing" he said, voice softer now. "Sometimes things fester when you leave them alone."

Her throat tightened, and she hated the way his words pressed against wounds she hadn't realized were still open.

"I'm not some lost cause" she muttered, the bitterness in her tone barely masking the exhaustion beneath it.

"I never said you were." He sat back slightly, but his gaze didn't waver. "But even if you were... so what? Everyone's a little lost sometimes. Doesn't mean they shouldn't have someone standing next to them."

Her breath caught in her throat, and for the first time in a long while, she didn't have anything to say.

The café felt suffocating in its silence, and she wished he would just look away—give her the space to keep pretending.

Tears pooled in her eyes. Fuck it!

She aggressively scratched them away from her cheeks, the medication was now fully working now and she knew she was fucked! This stranger was going to see her ugly side today. The mourning ugly side!

What the hell is wrong with me? Why can't I just keep it together? I've been through worse before, so why does this feel like the end of the world now? Why am I so... fucking weak?

I can't even stop myself from being a needy cunt in front of him. She hated the vulnerability, the rawness of it. I can't believe I'm letting a stranger see me fall apart like this. What kind of person am I to just let him see me like this? Why am I so powerless?

Get it together, Maria. You're not supposed to feel like this. You don't deserve this—especially not in front of him.

I'm such a fucking mess. He's going to see me as weak, and I can't even stop it. I should've just told him to leave the moment he walked in. This is why I keep to myself. This is exactly why I don't let anyone in.

I should've been stronger. I should've kept my composure. Look at me. A fucking barista who can't even make coffee without falling apart. How pathetic is that? He must be thinking I'm some kind of joke.

No one should have to see this. I shouldn't even be letting him see me like this. I'm letting him see everything I've tried so hard to hide, and for what? For some fleeting moment of... comfort? No. It's not worth it.

He should leave! Yes, he should go!

She could feel him watching her, his gaze soft, patient. And it made her furious.

"What the hell are you still doing here?" Her voice snapped like a whip, sharp and trembling.

Jimin's hand stilled where he was raising the cup to his lips . His eyes flicked to her, calm but questioning.

"Maria—"

"No." She stood up instantly. Her chest was rising and falling unevenly, her breaths shaky, warm pools of tears swelled in the brim of her eyes. "I'm serious. Just—leave."

Her bandaged hands were trembling, and she balled them into fists to hide it. She hated how fragile her voice sounded, how close the tears were to spilling over. It felt like the dam was cracking, and the weight behind it was more than she could handle.

He didn't move. His lack of reaction only ignited something hotter inside her.

"Don't just sit there like you are deaf" Her voice cracked at the edges, but she pushed forward, glaring at him even as her eyes blurred. "You come in here, flirt, laugh, drink your coffee, and leave. That's it. So why are you still here?"

She was shaking, and she could feel the tears starting to spill despite her best efforts.

Jimin placed the cup down he was holding down slowly, deliberately. He didn't say anything at first, but his stare was intense yet, careful, like he was watching a wounded animal.

"I told you to leave" she hissed, swiping at her face aggressively scratching the lone tear that broke from her long raven lashes.

"I heard you" he said softly. His gaze held steady—calm. "But I'm not going anywhere."

Her breath hitched, and she shook her head as if denying his words could make them less true. "I don't need—"

"You do" he cut in, his voice gentle but firm. "You don't have to say it. I can see it."

Maria squeezed her eyes shut, biting the inside of her cheek to stop the sob threatening to break free.

She didn't want him here. But at the same time... she didn't want him to leave. Or she knew she wouldn't survive tonight! But, she would never ask for it.

"I'm not leaving you like this" Jimin continued, he stood up and stepped a little closer. "So you can yell at me all you want. I'll stay here and take it."

She opened her mouth to argue, but the words caught in her throat. Her lip trembled, and before she could stop it, the first sob broke free.

Jimin didn't say anything. He just stood there, waiting—ready to catch whatever part of her was about to fall apart. She pressed her hands to her face, trying to stifle the sobs, but it was useless. The weight she had been holding back for so long poured out in uneven gasps, shaking her whole body.

"Damn it..." she choked out between the sobs, sliding down until she sat on the floor infront of him, knees pulled to her chest. "I—I hate this... I hate this so much."

She wasn't sure who she was talking to—him or herself.

Jimin knelt beside her quietly, keeping a small distance but close enough for her to feel his presence. He didn't reach out. He didn't say anything stupid like "it'll be okay" or "don't cry."

He just stayed. And she hated how comforting that was.

"I'm so tired" she whispered, her voice raw and broken. "I feel like I'm chasing something that isn't even real anymore. Like I'm running after a ghost and... I don't even know why I can't stop."

His gaze softened. He didn't need to ask what exactly she was talking about that made her feel this way. It felt like he was looking at a much younger version of himself. He leaned his back against the wall beside her, stretching his legs out in front of him.

"Maybe you don't stop because you're afraid of what's left if you do." His voice was quiet, thoughtful. "Sometimes the chase feels safer than standing still."

They were not just words, they were fragments of his soul he had left in the past like a worn out skin shed.

Because he knew. He'd lived it.

How many nights had he drowned himself in distractions, refusing to sit alone with his thoughts? How many times had he let laughter, flirtation, and late nights cover up the hollowness he felt creeping in when he let the world grow too quiet?

Jimin glanced at her from the corner of his eye, watching the way her fingers trembled as they brushed against her damp cheeks.

She looked like someone who knew exactly what that felt like. Her broken words pulled him from his thoughts. "And what happens when I stop and there's nothing left? What then?"

Jimin glanced at her, his eyes reflecting the faint glow of the café lights. "Then you start again"

Her breath hitched at his words, a sudden halt to her tears left her eyes stinging to that warm drying feeling.

Start again?

She had never thought about such a thing...

It sounded so simple. As if life could just... restart with the push of a button. But she knew better. Life didn't stop for grief. It didn't pause for the broken pieces of herself she had left scattered along the way.

She opened her mouth, but the words caught in her throat.

"I don't know how" she finally admitted, her voice barely audible. It felt pathetic, sitting there on the floor of her workplace, so naked in front of someone she barely knew. But the exhaustion—God, the exhaustion—was relentless.

Jimin shifted beside her, his knee lightly brushing hers as he leaned forward, resting his arms on them. "You're not supposed to know" he replied, his tone soft but steady. "No one does. You just... take one breath at a time. One small step."

She dragged in a shaky breath, staring at the cracks in the tiled floor. "And if I don't have the strength for even that?"

There was a brief pause before Jimin spoke, and when he did, it wasn't with sympathy—it was with certainty. "Then you sit right here. You sit still, and you let someone stay with you until you can stand again."

Her throat tightened painfully at his words, the weight of them striking something buried deep inside. She hadn't realized how desperate she was for someone to say it—for someone to tell her it was okay not to carry everything alone.

But the vulnerability terrified her.

Maria shifted, shaking her head with a hollow laugh. "I'm not exactly good at letting people stick around."

Jimin smirked faintly, the corners of his lips tugging up just enough to soften the heaviness in the room. "Yeah, I kind of picked up on that" he teased gently. "Instead of a thankyou, I got yelled at though I cleaned your mess and even made you some coffee and You did try to throw me out, remember?"

A small, breathy laugh escaped her, uninvited but welcome. "I guess I did. Its only fair for all those times you have annoyed me over a cup of coffee"

"And yet" Jimin continued, "I'm still here."

Maria lifted her gaze, meeting his eyes for the first time since she broke down. They were calm, unjudging—like he meant every single word, like he understood her reaction that made no sense at all.

The silence stretched, but this time it wasn't suffocating. It felt... still. Like for once, she didn't have to run.

"I don't know why you're here" she admitted after a moment, her voice soft, almost as if she were confessing to herself.

Jimin shrugged, resting his head back against the wall with a quiet exhale. "Maybe I needed to sit still too."

The simplicity of his answer caught her off guard, and something inside her chest eased—just a little.

For the first time in what felt like forever, She wasn't the only one haunted by ghosts.

Jimin exhaled softly, the weight in the room still heavy but no longer suffocating. With a small grunt, he pushed himself to his feet and dusted off his jeans.

"Well" he said, stretching his arms above his head, "I didn't spend the last half hour making the world's saddest cup of coffee just to let it sit there and get cold."

Maria's head lifted slightly, her tired eyes watching him as he walked toward the counter.

"I'll heat it up. No way I'm wasting my masterpiece. And do know I don't make coffee for just anyone, feel expensive to have a taste of my generosity" His tone was light, but she could hear the unspoken intention behind it—giving her space to breathe without leaving entirely.

As he fiddled with the espresso machine, Maria let her gaze linger on his back, the steady presence he brought filling the cracks that had threatened to swallow her whole tonight. She didn't know how she would've survived the storm inside her if he hadn't been here.

"By the way" Jimin called out casually over his shoulder, "if this cup of coffee tastes like burnt regret, just know that's my secret ingredient."

A small, unexpected laugh slipped past Maria's lips—soft, but real.

"Great" she muttered, wiping the corner of her eye. "Exactly what I needed tonight."

"You're welcome" Jimin replied smugly. "It's part of the late-night menu. Comes with free emotional damage."

"You better forget what happened tonight or I will carve your brains out" Maria spoke glaring, a quiet smile tugging at the edges of her mouth.

She didn't say it out loud, but the warmth seeping back into her chest whispered what she couldn't.

Thank you for staying.