The next few days felt like a slow burn.
Liam had settled into the restaurant easily, fitting in with the kitchen staff with charm and skill. His reputation as a renowned guest chef from New York had already earned him some respect, and even the regulars seemed excited by his presence.
But for Ryo, every smile Liam gave Miyu made his stomach churn. Every laugh they shared felt like an invisible weight pressing on his chest. And every time he caught them talking quietly, his mind raced with questions he didn't want to ask.
Ryo focused on his work, pushing the emotions down. He didn't want to feel this way. He didn't like feeling this way.
But he couldn't deny it: He was jealous.
One evening, during a particularly busy dinner service, Ryo noticed Miyu and Liam laughing together in the corner. She had her hand on her cheek, her smile softer than usual. Ryo didn't know what it was—maybe it was the way Liam's hand brushed against hers, or the way her eyes sparkled when he said something.
But suddenly, the heat of the kitchen felt unbearable.
He turned back to his station, forcing himself to concentrate on the order in front of him. But the vision of them together wouldn't leave him. The sound of their laughter echoed in his ears, and the warmth of the stove felt cold in comparison to the warmth he was desperately craving.
A few minutes later, as the last of the orders were being finished, Ryo heard someone approach behind him.
It was Miyu.
"You've been quiet today," she remarked, leaning against the counter.
"Busy," Ryo answered quickly, keeping his focus on the plating.
There was a beat of silence before she spoke again. "You've been avoiding me."
Ryo turned to face her. Her expression was serious, but there was something softer in her eyes. "I'm not avoiding you," he said, though his tone betrayed him.
"You're acting like you're angry," she observed, crossing her arms.
"I'm not angry," Ryo muttered, looking away. "Just tired."
Miyu raised an eyebrow. "Tired? Or jealous?"
Ryo froze.
"I saw you looking at me and Liam," she said softly. "It's okay. You don't have to hide it."
He looked up at her, his heart pounding in his chest. "Why does it matter to you?"
Miyu hesitated, her gaze flickering to the floor. She seemed to search for the right words, something she wasn't used to doing.
"It matters because…" She looked back up at him, her voice quiet but firm. "It matters because I don't want to hurt you, Ryo."
Her admission hit him harder than he expected.
Ryo took a step toward her, his hands trembling slightly. "Why would you hurt me?"
"Because I can't promise you something I'm not sure I can give." Her words hung in the air, heavy with meaning.
And for a moment, Ryo understood. She was afraid. Afraid of giving more than she could handle. Afraid of allowing herself to care.
He reached out, his hand brushing her cheek softly. "You don't have to promise anything," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm not asking for promises. Just… don't shut me out."
Miyu looked at him, her eyes searching his face as if trying to read what he really meant.
And then, without thinking, Ryo leaned in and kissed her. It wasn't rushed or demanding. It was slow—tentative, even. But it was real.
When they pulled away, Ryo's heart was racing.
"I won't shut you out, Ryo," she said, her voice barely audible.
"But I need you to understand," she continued. "I don't know where this is going. I don't know if I'm ready to give you everything."
Ryo nodded, his fingers still brushing the side of her face. "I don't need everything," he whispered. "Just… a chance."
Miyu didn't say anything more. Instead, she leaned into his touch, her body slightly trembling from the emotion in the air. They stood there, in the quiet of the kitchen, with the world outside still moving, but for a moment—nothing else mattered.