Annyeongz One-shots

41. Date crushes

The café was supposed to feel warm.

Soft jazz hummed from hidden speakers, lights dimmed to a golden glow, the smell of roasted coffee beans curling in the air like a promise. Couples laughed quietly, fingers brushing across tables, the kind of place where first dates were meant to bloom into something worth remembering.

Instead, Wonyoung sat frozen in the back corner, her untouched plate growing cold.

The chair across from her was empty.

She stared at it for a long moment, as if he might suddenly reappear—coat slung over his arm, apologetic grin on his lips, saying the line she’d been clinging to for the past ten minutes.

Sorry, the queue was long.

But the truth pressed heavier with every second.

He had ordered the most expensive dish on the menu. Wagyu steak, imported dessert, sparkling water instead of tap. He’d smiled proudly while doing it, like he was showing off. Then, casually, he’d said he needed to go to the washroom.

That was twenty minutes ago.

Her phone buzzed. Hope flared instinctively—then died just as fast.

A message. From him.

> This isn’t working. You’re too boring anyway. Don’t wait for me.

Her breath hitched.

Wonyoung stared at the screen until the letters blurred. Her fingers trembled, grip tightening around the phone like it was the only thing keeping her from falling apart right there. Heat rushed to her face—humiliation first, then anger, then the sharp, aching sting of embarrassment.

She swallowed hard, pushing her chair back slightly, trying to make herself smaller in the corner. Tears welled despite her effort to blink them away. She hated crying in public. Hated the idea of strangers seeing her break over a man who hadn’t even had the decency to face her.

Her shoulders shook once.

Then again.

She bowed her head, hair falling forward like a curtain as a silent sob slipped out.

Across the café, Yujin sat rigid at another table, staring at his own empty seat.

He’d been dumped too—just more directly.

His date had laughed awkwardly, stirred her coffee once, then once again, before tilting her head and saying, “You seem nice, but… part-time at a mart? I’m kind of looking for someone more stable.”

He’d nodded. Said he understood. Paid for his own drink.

She left without looking back.

Yujin exhaled slowly, fingers curling into his palm. It wasn’t the job that hurt—it was the way she’d said it, like his effort wasn’t worth anything unless it came with a title and a paycheck big enough to impress.

He was gathering his things when he noticed her.

At first, it was just movement—a girl hunched over in the corner, shoulders trembling faintly. Then he heard it. The soft, broken sound someone makes when they’re trying very hard not to cry.

His chest tightened.

Without thinking too much, Yujin stood. He hesitated halfway, debating whether to mind his own business. But something about the way she sat there—abandoned, clearly waiting for someone who wasn’t coming—felt painfully familiar.

He walked over slowly.

“Hey,” he said gently, stopping a few steps away. “Uh… are you okay?”