July 19th, 2026
At the fast food restaurant - 11:43 AM
The sizzle of grease.
The drone of the exhaust fan.
The rhythmic tap-tap of the fryer basket as it plunged into boiling oil.
It should have been just another shift at McDizzle.
But Ian stood there, hunched in his red uniform, his apron stained, hat slightly off-center, staring blankly at the sizzling patties on the griddle.
He wasn't seeing burgers.
He wasn't smelling beef.
He wasn't here.
His mind was back there - still tangled in the chaos that had crashed into his life like a wrecking ball wrapped in white lace and designer perfume.
Ruth Tachibana.
Or… Ruth Kawasaki, as the headlines called her.
Every hour since the wedding, she haunted him. The stares. The fake smiles. The unanswered questions. The anonymous message. The picture.
"We looked so happy and in love here, honey. Don't you think?
I miss you so much. I wanna feel your touch again <3"
What the hell was going on?
Why now?
Why her?
How did she find him?
How long had she been watching?
The spatula trembled in his grip. The patties had started to smoke. He flipped one lazily, barely pressing it against the grill. His eyes were glazed over.
A familiar voice screamed behind him.
"WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?!"
Ian snapped out of it.
The manager, Kuwabara, was charging toward him, holding a tray with two half-cooked burgers—the patties pink, juices still red.
"Not this again! You really trying to get us sued?!" Kento shouted, red in the face.
"You serve this shit to customers? You want someone dying from raw meat?!"
Ian blinked.
"I—I'm sorry. I wasn't focused."
"NO SHIT YOU WEREN'T FOCUSED!" Kento slammed the tray onto the prep counter.
"This is the second time. You're being paid to be focused! What do you think this is? Therapy? A fucking meditation retreat?!" Kuwabara added.
Ian lowered his head.
He didn't have the energy to fight.
"I'll cook the next ones better."
"You better fucking do that or don't bother showing up tomorrow. "I'm not babysitting a damn zombie." Kuwabara growled.
He stormed off, muttering curses under his breath.
Ian gritted his teeth. His hands tightened around the spatula. He wasn't mad at Kento. Kento was just another yelling voice in a life full of noise.
But his heart, his heart was collapsing.
He was falling into something.
Dark.
Heavy.
Suffocating.
He turned back to the grill, forced himself to focus. He adjusted the temperature. Placed new patties down. Added seasoning. Pressed them with practiced ease.
Then....
Creak.
The kitchen door opened behind him.
He didn't turn around.
But he knew.
He could feel the presence.
The stench of arrogance.
The heat of humiliation walking right back into his life.
"Yo, Ian."
He finally turned.
There he was.
Daigo.
The same smirk. The same swagger. But older, sharper. Dressed in an expensive jacket, designer watch flashing under the fluorescent lights. A man who hadn't grown up, only grown meaner.
Ian didn't respond.
Daigo looked around the kitchen, grinning. "Damn, you really work here full time. Thought you'd be a writer or something. What was it you always said? 'I'm gonna be famous one day'?"
Ian turned back to the grill. "What are you doing here?
Daigo chuckled, walking further in like he owned the place.
"Relax. Kuwabara's a buddy of mine. He lets me hang back here sometimes. Says I bring good luck."
He picked up a slice of cheese and sniffed it.
"So this is your big break, huh? Flipping burgers. No wonder you looked like a ghost running out of that wedding. Sh*t must've hurt." He mocked Ian.
Ian said nothing.
"Ruth's looking fine as fuck, by the way. Damn. When Leo kissed her on that altar?"
Daigo clicked his tongue. "My man won. Straight-up snatched a goddess." And he mocked again.
Ian stared at the grill, hands shaking.
"But hey," Daigo leaned against the counter.
"You used to date her, right? Back in school? What happened, bro? She finally woke up and realized you're a fucking loser?" And the mocking never stopped.
Ian dropped the spatula.
Turned.
Face pale. Eyes dark.
"Get out."
"Oh?" Daigo grinned. "You gonna cry now? Hit me with a spatula like a good little chef?"
"I said get out."
Daigo tilted his head.
"Or what? You gonna call Ruth to come defend you?"
The moment hung in the air like a blade.
Ian lunged - not with his fists, but with his voice. Low. Controlled. Razor-sharp.
"You're pathetic, Daigo. You walk in here, throwing dirt on a guy already on the ground, just to feel like you matter. You hang around my manager like a lapdog so you can feel powerful in a kitchen. Is that what it takes for you to feel like a man?"
Daigo's grin wavered—just a flicker. But it was there.
He straightened. "Careful, Ian. Don't forget who you're talking to."
"I haven't," Ian replied, stepping closer.
"I never forgot. You're the same coward who needed an audience to feel brave. But I'm not fifteen anymore." Ian added.
They stood inches apart.
Breathing hard.
Daigo stared at him—sizing him up—then scoffed, backing off.
"Whatever. Keep flipping meat, Romeo. Ruth's in another universe now. One you'll never reach."
He turned and walked out, laughing.
Ian stood there, fists clenched.
The spatula still on the ground.
He picked it up slowly.
Turned back to the grill.
And let the tears sting in silence.
But only for a second.
Then, like smoke into the vents, they vanished.
Back to silence.
Back to the fire.