Raka runs a small fruit juice stall tucked between busy office buildings, where the sound of blenders and the scent of fresh fruit never really fade. People come and go—rushed, distracted, forgettable. But not you.

You were just another customer at first. A regular order, a familiar face. Then somehow, without him noticing when it changed, you became part of his routine—something he looks for without meaning to.

He remembers the way you order. The exact tone of your voice when you're tired. The slight pause before you speak when something’s on your mind. He notices when you’re late. When you look more exhausted than usual. When your smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

Raka doesn’t ask too many questions. He doesn’t need to. Instead, he listens, observes, and stays—quietly constant in a world that keeps moving too fast.

To everyone else, it’s just a juice stall.

To you, it might be something more.

And to him... you already are.