One

The low hum of the radio filled the quiet shop, crackling softly between bursts of chatter and music.

“…I’m telling you, they are not dating,” a voice insisted through the speakers.

“Then explain the matching rings,” the other host shot back.

“Stylists exist. Or they just so happened to be wearing the same ring. Coincidences are a thing, you know?”

“Or this couple could be soft launching their relationship by dropping hints before the big announcement.”

Jurin stared at the dim screen of the cash register, her fingers tracing the worn edge of the counter. She wasn’t really looking at it—just… staring.

“…you’re ruining romance for everyone listening right now,” the second voice sighed.

“Romance is already dead. I’m just reporting facts.”

Jurin huffed quietly under her breath and reached over, turning the volume down just slightly.

Not enough to shut it off.

Just enough to dull it.

The scent of salt and sunscreen clung to the air, mixing with the faint, waxy smell of freshly polished surfboards. Business was slow today—not that she minded. It gave her too much time to think.

The chime above the door jingled, followed by the sound of flip-flops smacking against the wooden floor.

A can of iced coffee slid in front of her before she even had the chance to look up. Jurin blinked at it, then looked up to meet her friend Chisa's gaze as she leaned against the counter, wearing an expression that balanced sympathy and mischief.

“Figured you needed this,” Chisa said, nudging the can closer. “You’ve been looking like a sad, abandoned puppy all week.”

Jurin rolled her eyes but couldn’t fight the small, tired smile that tugged at her lips. "I don’t look like a sad, abandoned puppy," she muttered, grabbing the can and popping the tab. "I just have a lot on my mind." She took a long sip, letting the bittersweet taste settle.

Chisa hummed, clearly unconvinced. “Amy would probably say otherwise if she was here.”

Jurin rolled her eyes, “Amy always has something to say.”

Chisa hummed, drumming her fingers against the counter.

“Let’s go out for a bit. You need some air.”

Jurin hesitated, her fingers tracing the cold condensation on the can. "I’m fine. Really—" she began, but Chisa was already grabbing hold of her arm, tugging her toward the door.

“Nope. We’re going,” Chisa gave her a firm look that said, ‘You’re not fighting with me over this.’

Jurin let out a relentless sigh, letting Chisa pull her from the counter to the blinding sunset. The ocean was just across the shop, and the smell of saltwater and seaweed was even stronger here. The air was warm, with a faint sea breeze rustling through her hair.

They walked in silence for a few moments, the distant sounds of seagulls crying and children laughing drifting in from the beach. Jurin kept her gaze forward, her fingers drumming against the can.

“So,” Chisa finally said, kicking a loose shell as they strolled, “how did it go?”

“How did what go?” Jurin responded.

“Your ‘urgent’ conversation with Hanta?’” Chisa put air quotes around the word ‘urgent.’

Jurin bit her lip, feeling the lump in her throat grow and her shoulders tense.  She knew this conversation was bound to happen the moment Chisa pulled her out of the shop, but she wasn’t ready. She was still trying to process everything that happened.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” she muttered, looking down at her feet.

Chisa sighed and rolled her eyes, clearly unimpressed. “Come on, Jurin. You’ve been moping around for days. So obviously, there’s something to talk about.”

“I’m not moping,” Jurin said defensively. “It’s just… a lot.”

Chisa furrowed her eyebrow. “Did you guys fight?”

“No! God, no! We didn’t fight,” Jurin quickly said. “We just talked.”

“And?” Chisa arched an eyebrow, anticipating Jurin’s response.

Jurin’s grip on the coffee can tightened. She refused to meet her friend’s gaze while they walked along the shore.

“He…” she trailed off, her voice barely above a whisper. “He said we should take a break.”

Chisa blinked. “A break?”

“Yes.”

“And you honestly believe that?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

Chisa rolled her eyes. “Because something ain’t adding up and you know it. You two were practically joined at the hip last Christmas, and suddenly it’s ‘oh, I think we should take an indefinite hiatus from our relationship. Peace out.” She scoffed. “Yeah, not buying it, sweetie.”

“He’s been a bit distant since New Year’s, Chisa. You know this.”

“Yeah, but not bad enough for this without an explanation.”

“Maybe something was weighing him down that he couldn’t talk about with me.”

“And he decides that ‘taking a break’ is the best course of action? Yeah right.”

Jurin had no comeback for that.

The memory of their break-up was still fresh in her mind: the flatness in his eyes, the rehearsed way he’d spoken, the way his eyes were focused on his twiddling thumbs, refusing to meet her confused gaze. It had only been two weeks, yet it still felt like it had happened yesterday.

“He… he said he needed space. That he couldn’t be in a relationship right now,” she said quietly with a lackadaisical shrug.

Chisa blinked. “Space? Almost two years together, suddenly ‘he needs space’? Nah. Something’s definitely not adding up.”

“Could you at least try to be a little supportive?” she muttered, irritation creeping into her voice.