It’s By Instinct

The bell chimed, and the door closed with a click. Gaeul looked up by instinct, not consciously nor intentionally. It just happened. 

She stopped what she was doing, hand still holding onto the cloth, in the middle of cleaning the spill she accidentally made on the counter while making her last order. It still smelled like coffee mixed with milk. 

Her eyes flickered towards the door. 

A man stepped in. 

Not—

That made her blink. The thought came by impulse, something that flickered quickly through her mind. She looked back down at her hands holding the cloth, continuing to clean the counter. 

“Welcome,” she said softly, like how she always did since she opened the shop. 

It was nothing.

//

The next day was the same. 

Bell chimed, the door opened and closed with a click. Footsteps. Duller, hesitant, unfamiliar.

Different faces. Different requests. Different smiles. Different voices. 

Not hers. 

Gaeul didn’t want to think about it. There was no point, no reason to worry herself over something like that. Because it wasn’t important. It didn’t affect her. 

She moved at her usual pace, doing the same thing she always did every day. Wipe down the shelves, organize the books, reorder stocks that were running low, mop the aisles, taking coffee orders, making more coffee, cleaning tables, computing the sales by closing time, and then close up shop.

It was what she always did. It was her routine. It was predictable. Something that wouldn’t disappoint her. Because this was something she could control. 

//

It was only on that particular day where she caught herself acting differently.

The bell chimed, the door didn’t close yet, and she quickly looked up, staring at the door that had no one there. It didn’t welcome anyone, it was closing, the tail end of someone leaving. She couldn’t stop herself, but she already did it, already staring at the emptiness.

Gaeul couldn’t take it back this time.

The grip she had on her pen tightened. She looked back down on the document in her hand, she went through lines, reviewing the same sentences over and over, unable to focus. She read through it twice, three more times, forcing herself to register each word. 

Her jaw clenched. 

She felt stupid. 

“So…” Yujin’s voice trailed and Gaeul did everything in her not to roll her eyes or smack her with the book in her hands before—”Wonyoung hasn’t shown up for almost a week, huh?”

Gaeul didn’t react. She didn’t want to. She didn’t want Yujin to call her out on it, so she kept her composure. There was nothing to say about that. 

“Did something happen?” The question came quickly, giving Gaeul immediate whiplash, but the most she could do was tighten the grip she had on the cloth.

“Nothing happened,” she replied curtly, turning away to clean somewhere else, somewhere Yujin wouldn’t be able to notice anything. 

Yujin hummed, the kind that sounded like she wasn’t convinced, and it always made Gaeul wish she could hit her because it always had meaning to it. “I saw you staring at the door the other day, I know you’re wondering where she is as well.”

Gaeul was still for a second, before she started sorting through the books again. “It doesn’t mean anything. Why does everything I do have to do with her?”

She didn’t mean to sound like a bitch, but sometimes the way Yujin said it so casually irritated her. She had no idea what it felt like. 

“We’re you getting used to it?”

That question made her stop moving, made her stare into nothing while her mind and heart were doing all sorts of horrible things. She clicked her teeth, as if the sound was enough to drive them away. “I wasn’t.”

Her answer was short and simple. Because she meant it. She kept telling herself that she meant it. There were no emotions to her words, nothing that was going to break through the cracks of her walls, nothing that could break them so easily. 

She placed the cloth away, making sure her movements were calm. She walked over to the other side of the counter, knowing very well that Yujin was watching her. Waiting for her to react. But she refused to. Instead she grabbed the book that she left near the till, checking for details, creases, folds, blemishes. 

But her mind was running wild, with voices that were loud enough to drive her to the wall. She could feel her heart beating against her chest, wishing she could beg it to stop, but she knew she couldn’t. 

“It’s okay to be honest,” Yujin said again, careful this time. 

Gaeul took another deep breath. It was the only way for her not to snap at her friend again. So she did it again. Once she managed a slow and steady exhale, she nodded her head. “I know,” she muttered, not turning to face her friend. “It’s fine. It’s nothing important.”

Silence filled their space again.

Yujin finally yielded and didn’t speak anymore. 

Which was fine. Better, even. 

Gaeul felt a tinge of guilt inside of her because she knew that Yujin was just concerned for her. But she knew for a fact that acknowledging it would make things real. 

So she refused to. 

Yujin didn’t push either.

Gaeul just hoped that her denial wasn’t the thing that made everything obvious. 

The bell chimed again. 

Gaeul looked up quickly. Again. 

It was someone else. She smiled at Gaeul, and she smiled back. A regular that came at odd times. The woman walked towards the back, ready to take a book from the shelves and bring it to the tables so she could read it. 

Her gaze landed towards the table Wonyoung always sat at. 

It was empty. And if it wasn’t empty, it wasn’t filled with her. 

Yujin’s words played in her head again. 

She forced herself to look away. 

//

Later that day, she was standing alone inside the shop. No customers, no one who came in to order coffee or read a book. It was just her. As always. It was the kind of quiet and empty that settled deep into the shelves of her shop. The kind where she could feel each heavy beat of her heart. 

Gaeul was standing by the counter, staring into nothing. 

She received a text from Rei that she might come over to the shop within the next week. Her flight from Japan was tomorrow and she needed time to rest before she saw everyone again. Yujin was stuck at work, and said she had important meetings, one after the other. But she still told Gaeul about it, and that she was going to tell her all about it tomorrow. 

“Goodbye,” she could hear the words in Wonyoung’s voice. 

It was threatening because she wasn’t sure when was the last time she was going to hear it before Wonyoung was going to disappear again. It scared her because she knew that once she got used to hearing that voice, she wouldn’t be able to take everything back. 

It scared her because every time Wonyoung said that, she always came back the next day. 

Because it was only then when Gaeul remembered the last time Wonyoung was at the shop. How she didn’t finish her coffee, how she only sat at her spot for a few minutes and decided to leave. How she said she had work, the look on her face. The way she didn’t answer Yujin. 

The way she didn’t say goodbye. 

She stared at the coffee machine. Clean and ready to make another cup of coffee.

There was a cup there. Filled. Coffee. Black. 

Untouched. 

Gaeul honestly couldn’t remember making it. But it was there. 

She turned around, eyes drifting towards the door, then to the windows, and then back to the table that Wonyoung always took. 

It was empty.

Empty.

Her chest ached again. The kind she wished she never had to feel again after so long. 

Because she didn’t want to think about it, she didn’t want to admit it out loud. 

Gaeul wasn’t looking for her. She wasn’t expecting her. She wasn’t wondering why she hadn’t shown up for more than a week. She wasn’t hurt about it. She wasn’t thinking about the past.

The thoughts that came were familiar and always unwelcomed. 

But she straightened herself once she was able to suppress them. She took a deep breath, shook her head once and exhaled slowly. Like she believed she could physically push everything away. She always did that. But it was the only way she could function properly.

This was nothing. 

This was nothing. 

This was nothing. 

She took another deep breath, grabbed the coffee from the counter, walked over to the sink, and poured it out into the drain. 

Wonyoung was staring at nothing but the dull colors of her office walls. 

The clients from the magazine came by to tell her how great the photoshoot was and that they were excited to have Wonyoung’s models to be featured on the cover.

They said the same thing she heard for years. The kind where she knew wasn’t genuine at all, where these people just wanted to kiss ass towards her because she had the power to kick them out or choose them. But she knew very well that they were tolerating her at best.

A young CEO was never taken seriously. Especially for someone in this industry. 

Wonyoung worked her ass off for her brand to be given a sliver of respect. It was good—no—it was a great brand. Wonyoung chose the best people to help make this entire thing happen. Everyone that worked with her deserved the respect, to be recognized, to be given the chance to prove themselves as well. She knew they were capable. She knew this was something they could handle. She trusted everyone, she trusted herself that Lucky Vicky was going to materialize and make a difference in any way possible—

She closed her eyes, took a breath, and slowly exhaled. Her thoughts were taking the reins again, and she needed to slow down. 

When she opened her eyes, they immediately flicker down to the mug that was next to her hand. 

Coffee. Black.

The kind that was made with expensive beans, imported from some country she couldn’t remember. It was precisely measured, made by a professional to perfection. The kind they said was meant for her. 

But it remained next to her hand. 

Cold.

Untouched after one sip.

Because she tried it, out of courtesy. But the moment it touched her lips; she forced herself to swallow it. Because it tasted like nothing. It tasted different. It wasn’t the same. 

She didn’t care if it was made by the gods. It wasn’t what she wanted.

Wonyoung glanced towards the desk clock, the time blinking at her, taunting and provoking. It made her look away, now staring at the window, seeing the glow of the sun reaching its peak.

By this time, she could have been at the shop, ordering the same coffee, standing in front of the counter, leaning slightly, hoping for—

She closed her eyes again, and exhaled sharply, running a hand through her hair. She took a moment, thinking clearly, remembering the reason why she was doing this.

This was the right thing to do. 

Then she opened her mouth. “This is the right thing,” she said it out loud, like it was going to actually make sense if she did, that her heart was going to believe her words because it was muttered into the air. 

But that was the part that disappointed her the most. They weren’t convincing. Not at all. Not in the slightest. So she tried again, stronger this time.

Wonyoung opened her eyes, grabbing the ignored coffee in her hand, and that alone felt like a sin. She stared at it. “I’m doing the right thing,” she said. Without thinking she brought the coffee to her lips, knowing that this was what she was supposed to do. But the moment the cold liquid touched her lips; she immediately placed it back down. “I’m doing the right thing by staying away,” she muttered this time, trying to convince herself. 

It really wasn’t convincing at all. 

Perhaps drowning in her work would help. She needed to distract herself, needed to find herself again, needed to have that life where she had control. Because it was the one that made sense, the kind where it made her feel like a winner for once. Not the kind that made her feel anything. 

She reached over to the intercom and pressed the button. “Jiwon,” she said, thinking, but already made up her mind. “Can you reschedule tomorrow's four o’clock to three today?”

Jiwon buzzed back. “Are you sure? I thought you needed time for that one.”

“No,” Wonyoung replied, calm, and collected. She didn’t want to think, she wanted to do something. “I can handle it.”