The Note You Shouldn’t Read
709 Words
The folded note sat on Courtney's counter like it had weight not physical weight but something worse meaning, she avoided it for exactly six hours and forty-three minutes.
Marco noticed. Lia definitely noticed. Even customers who didn't know her well could tell she was distracted—her smile a little slower, her movements a little too precise, like she was trying to keep herself from thinking too much.
"You're going to stare a hole through that paper," Marco said eventually.
"I'm not staring."
"You've been reorganizing the same stack of cups for ten minutes."
Courtney froze then sighed. "It's just a note."
"From CEO Ice King," Marco added.
Courtney shot him a look. "Don't call him that."
"Why not? It fits."
"It's rude."
"It's accurate."
She didn't respond because the truth was, she didn't have an argument for that.
When the café finally slowed down, Courtney stood alone behind the counter. The note was still there waiting like it knew she would give in eventually. She reached for it, stopped and pulled her hand back then sighed sharply.
"Stop being dramatic," she muttered to herself. She picked it up, the paper felt simple, ordinary and unassuming. That somehow made it worse. Slowly, she unfolded it. No fancy handwriting, no decoration just clean, sharp words.
Courtney,
I won't be coming back the same way I used to.
Not because I don't want to.
Because I shouldn't.
—Renz
That was it no explanation, no softness just truth. Courtney read it again and again. Her grip tightened slightly on the paper. "Of course," she whispered. "Of course you'd say something like this."
Behind her, Lia appeared quietly. "What is it?"
Courtney didn't turn. "Nothing."
"That sounds like a lie."
"It's just a note."
Lia stepped closer. "From him."
Courtney finally folded it back up. "Yes."
"And?"
"And nothing," Courtney said quickly but her voice betrayed her.
Lia studied her carefully. "He's pulling away."
Courtney didn't answer because she knew. She knew that better than she wanted to admit.
That night, Renz didn't come not that it surprised her anymore but it still felt… loud.
The café closed early. Courtney stayed behind alone, cleaning slowly, like she was trying to delay something she couldn't name. Then her phone rang. She didn't need to look at the screen. She already knew. Still, she answered.
"Hello?"
A pause then, "Did you read it?" His voice is calm and ontrolled but not as distant as before.
Courtney leaned against the counter. "Yes." Another pause. "You shouldn't have written it," she said quietly.
"I know."
"Then why did you?"
Renz exhaled slowly on the other end and for the first time, there was something different in his silence not emptiness but struggle.
"Because I needed to say it," he replied.
Courtney closed her eyes for a moment. "That's not an answer."
"It's the only one I have."
That made her heart tighten slightly. She swallowed. "You don't make sense."
"I know."
"You come and go like it doesn't matter."
"It matters."
"Then why are you leaving?"
A long pause followed long enough that Courtney thought the call might end. Then—
"Because I don't trust myself around you."
Her breath caught. The café felt too quiet suddenly. Even the air felt still.
Courtney opened her eyes. "That's the most honest thing you've ever said."
"I'm aware."
"And?"
"And I don't know what to do with it."
Courtney looked down at the folded note still in her hand. "You don't get to show up," she said softly, "and then leave because it feels inconvenient."
"I know."
"You don't get to confuse me and then disappear."
"I know."
Her voice dropped slightly. "Then stop doing it."
Silence longer this time.
He finally spoke, quieter now. "If I stay," Renz said, "I won't leave properly."
Courtney froze, that hit differently not like rejection but like warning. She swallowed. "And if you leave?"
A pause then, "I already did," he said and the line went quiet.
Courtney stared at her phone long after the call ended. The café felt colder now not empty just… changed because for the first time, she understood something clearly. This wasn't about coffee anymore, it was about timing.
And they were both already too late.
- Writer
