July 21st, 2026
At the fast food restaurant - 8:45 AM
The buzzing lights of the small diner hummed against the tense silence of the kitchen, broken only by the sizzle of a fryer and the clink of utensils. Ian wiped the sweat from his brow with his wrist. The kitchen was always hot, but today, it felt like the walls were breathing down his neck. He exhaled, long and shaky, gripping a glass of lukewarm water and gulping it down as if it were oxygen itself. His mind, though, was far from the heat, from the food, from the orders.
It was her.
Ruth.
She was here, at one of the tables, accompanied by her husband Leo, Leo's younger brother Leon, and Leon's girlfriend. Seeing her again, after all the unresolved emotions, the unanswered questions, the dreams that turned into relentless nightmares—had knocked the breath out of him.
At the cashier
Kuwabara kicked Ian's ankle lightly. "They're at the table. Get out there, take their order."
"What?" Ian muttered. "Why me?"
"Because you're only the employee I have. Now move."
Ian swallowed and forced himself to approach the table, heart hammering in his chest with every step. He could feel Ruth's stare before he even got close. That kind of stare that drills into your mind. That knows things.
He held up the notepad. "Uh… welcome. What can I get you?"
Leo looked up with an annoyingly charismatic smile. "Ah, well. Let's start with the double cheeseburger with extra pickles. Fries. Coke. Classic, yeah?"
Leon chimed in. "Same for me, but make mine without cheese. I hate cheese."
"You hate life," Leo teased, nudging his brother. They chuckled.
The girlfriend, a sweet-looking girl with pink nails and an oversized hoodie, politely ordered a chicken sandwich and fries.
And then… Ruth.
She hadn't broken eye contact with Ian since he walked over. Her gaze caressed him like fingers sliding across bare skin. Her lips curled into a slow, sultry smile.
"I'll have whatever this man thinks I should have," she said softly.
Leo turned to her, amused. "Babe, just pick something."
Ruth finally looked away from Ian. "Fine. Grilled chicken salad. Dressing on the side."
Ian nodded, but he didn't write. His hands were trembling.
"Got it," he said hoarsely, then turned away. But as he walked back toward the kitchen, he felt it—the burn of her stare on the back of his neck. She was still playing her silent game.
At the table - 9:30 AM
"That was so greasy," Leon said, stretching his arms out, a cocky grin on his face. "Fulfilling though. Cheap food, but greasy as hell."
Leo leaned back in his chair, patting his stomach. "You always complain about your food after you eat it. At least let it digest, man."
"What? I'm just being honest! You dragged us into this place. I didn't expect much, but it's not the worst thing I've eaten."
"You said that after the steakhouse in Kyoto too."
"Yeah, because the steak was raw!"
"It was wagyu! It's supposed to be rare!"
Their banter was playful, harmless. Ruth barely smiled. She took a sip from her water glass, eyes hollow, watching the brothers as they bickered.
"I'm gonna wash this grease off my hands," Leo said, standing and stretching. "Leon, come on."
Leon groaned but got up. "Babe, you coming?"
His girlfriend nodded, dabbing the corners of her mouth with a napkin. "Sure. I could use a mirror."
And just like that, Ruth was left alone at the table.
Her demeanor shifted.
The blank smile she wore while Leo talked vanished. Slowly, she turned her head, her gaze drifting to the small window into the kitchen. She stared.
A twitch at the corner of her lips. A smile. Slow, eerie, like it had to be dragged from some dark corner of her soul. Her fingers tapped the table gently. Tap. Tap. Tap.
Something dark stirred within her gaze, something that wasn't love or pain. Something else.
In the Kitchen - 9:35 AM
Ian stared at the floor as he rinsed the glass, trying to focus on the swirl of water, the steady rhythm of routine. His hands trembled slightly. He set the glass down. He couldn't breathe.
This heat.
This pressure.
Her presence.
Then...he felt it.
A prickle down his spine. The air around him grew heavy, colder despite the sweltering kitchen. He turned slowly.
And there she was....
Ruth.
Her figure barely made a sound. She stood inside the kitchen, past the threshold where customers weren't allowed. Her presence radiated like a soft electric hum that unsettled every part of him. She wore a tailored white blazer over a silk blouse, her long shadow hair cascading down her back, still perfect from the wedding photos.
But her smile,
It wasn't right.
"Ian," she said, almost in a whisper, like they were lovers reuniting after years. Her voice held a chilling sweetness.
"I've missed you so, so, so much." She added.
Ian's feet wouldn't move. His lips parted, but no words came. The heat of the kitchen was nothing compared to the fire rising inside his chest.
He couldn't breathe.
She stepped closer. Her heels made the faintest click on the floor tiles, like countdowns. Her hand reached up, fingers brushing the side of a hanging spatula. Her eyes stayed locked on his face.
"I watched you. Yesterday. Today. You're still..."
She tilted her head, examining him like a piece of art. "Mine."
Ian swallowed. "Ruth?"
Her smile widened. "Why are you still working here? You hate greasy food. You always said so."
Then her fingers trailed along the edge of the prep counter. "You still make those egg sandwiches? The ones I loved in college?
His stomach twisted. She remembered. Of course she did.
"Ruth. You're.....ma...rried." Ian uttered. With intense pressure and silent panicking, he couldn't forced himself to make a sentence.
"Married?" she echoed, as if confused by the word. She glanced over her shoulder as if someone had whispered it to her. "Oh, right. Him."
Ian took a step back. She followed.
"Why....did you leave me?" he blurted softly and slowly.
Ruth's expression didn't change. But her eyes,
They dimmed.
"You wouldn't understand," she said softly. "But I never forgot you. Never stopped thinking about you. Not even for a single second."
She closed the gap between them. Ian's back was against the counter now. His breath shallow.
"You're....sick," he whispered.
Ruth chuckled - light, melodic, like a bell chime.
"Maybe," she said. "But you made me this way."
Their eyes locked again, and for a brief moment, something flickered behind her smile. Obsession? Madness? Love?
She leaned in, close enough that he could feel her breath on his neck.
"Do you remember the night I said I loved you more than life itself?" Ruth said.
He didn't answer.
Suddenly, the door to the kitchen creaked open.
"Ruth?" Leo's voice echoed. Heavy footsteps followed.
Ruth straightened, her mask of normalcy returning like a cloak.
She turned back to Ian, whispered: "We'll finish this later."
Then she walked toward the door, calm, composed, back to the world where she was someone's wife. The woman who wore a mask better than anyone.
Ian stood frozen, the room spinning.
He knew something now.
This wasn't over.
She hadn't come to dine.
She came to haunt.
And after 6 years, he finally saw Ruth again, face to face.