Weeks later.
Morning light filtered through the café windows.
Miyu stood behind the counter again—slower now. Softer.
A small baby slept in a carrier nearby.
The doorbell rang.
8:17 a.m.
Haruto walked in, holding a coffee cup carrier.
"Good morning," he said.
Miyu smiled—the same gentle smile from years ago.
"Good morning."
Tokyo rushed on.
But inside Hana Café—
A routine had become a love story.A love story had become a family.
And every morning still felt like a beginning.
