It was just another Saturday afternoon at Coppa — the same familiar hum of chatter, espresso machines hissing, sunlight spilling through the windowpanes and painting gold over the tables.
Curtis sat in his usual corner seat, book open but unread. He'd been staring at the same page for fifteen minutes, his mind elsewhere — a quiet restlessness he couldn't quite name.
The café was livelier than usual. A group of young women occupied the long table near the counter, their laughter bright and unrestrained. They were clearly catching up after a long time apart, talking over one another about trips, gifts, and food.
"—Japan was so beautiful!" one of them gushed. "I still miss the ramen," another replied. "And the cherry blossoms! God, I could live there forever."
The name of the country alone made Curtis look up. He couldn't help but listen.
He closed his book and sighed. Maybe a walk would do him good.
As he stood, one of the women reached into her tote bag, and a glossy magazine slipped out, skidding across the floor. Reflexively, Curtis bent down to pick it up.
"Ah! Thank you!" the girl said, embarrassed, reaching for it.
He handed it back with a polite smile — and froze.
There, on the cover, was a face he knew. A face he'd memorized.
It was quick — barely a glance — but the familiarity hit him like a shock to the chest. He walked away at first, convincing himself it couldn't be. But halfway to the door, he stopped.
His pulse raced.
He turned around.
"Excuse me," he said, approaching the table again, his voice caught somewhere between polite and desperate. "About that magazine I picked up earlier… may I — could I see it again for a moment?"
The group of friends exchanged confused looks.
He must have sounded strange, borderline pleading, but he didn't care. "I just… I thought I saw someone I know. Please."
The girl hesitated, then handed it to him. "Sure. It's a travel and lifestyle issue — I bought it in Japan."
He flipped through quickly, fingers trembling until he found the page — and there she was.
Allison Kelley.
Smiling. Radiant. Alive. The caption read: General Manager of Rouge – Tokyo's most exclusive executive club.
His throat tightened. He didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
After all this time — she was here.
"If you don't mind me asking," he said gently, pointing to the spread, "where was this photo taken?"
"Oh, that's from a feature about a club called Rouge," the woman said, sipping her drink. "It's in Shinjuku. Really high-end place. My cousin went there once — super classy, apparently."
Curtis nodded, thanked them all, and walked out of Coppa — his heart pounding so loudly it drowned the city noise.
Outside, the spring air was cool, the light soft and golden. But his thoughts were chaos.
He took out his phone, opened the airline app, and booked the earliest red-eye flight to Tokyo. No hesitation. No logic. Just instinct.
She was there.And this time, he wasn't letting fate slip by again.
"Hey, man!" Jonah's voice crackled through the speaker when Curtis called him. "It's the weekend — make it quick.
My girl's dragging me to brunch."
"I found her," Curtis said, breathless.
"Allie. She's in Japan. I'm flying out tonight."
Jonah paused. "Wait—what? Bro, slow down. You found her? Are you even sure it's really her?"
"I saw her photo in a magazine," Curtis said firmly. "It's her. I know it's her."
Jonah sighed, the sound of disbelief laced with affection. "Dude, just… think this through. What if it's not what you expect?"
"I've thought about nothing but her for a year and a half," Curtis cut in. "I'm done thinking. I'm going."
There was a beat of silence — then Jonah said quietly, "Then go get her."
Curtis smiled. "That's the plan."
He packed light — just a backpack, his passport, and the small silver bracelet she'd once teased him for wearing.
He called his parents, told them where he was headed. His mother gasped, then laughed softly. "Follow your heart, honey," she said. "It's about time."
The airport smelled faintly of coffee and stagnant air. Curtis sat at the gate, restless, his knee bouncing. He tried to read again but couldn't focus. His thoughts were racing — flashes of her voice, her laugh, the way she used to roll her eyes when she caught him overthinking.
He was terrified — and exhilarated. Would she recognize him? Would she want to see him? Would she even remember what they once had? When the plane finally took off, the city lights fell away beneath him, and all that filled his chest was a single, overwhelming feeling: hope.
Tokyo greeted him with a pale morning sun and a sky painted in soft pink and white — cherry blossoms in full bloom, fluttering like confetti across the streets.
He barely noticed them.
He stepped out of the airport, hailed a taxi, and showed the driver a screenshot of the Rouge article. "Here. Shinjuku. Rouge Club."
The driver nodded, and the car sped off through the city.
Neon signs, endless crowds, vending machines lining the sidewalks — everything was a blur. Curtis pressed his forehead against the glass, his heart thudding with every turn.
When they finally arrived, the sky had turned deep blue. Rouge stood in the middle of Tokyo's nightlife district, a tall, modern building glowing with red lights and sleek glass.
The club wasn't open yet. Two hours to go.
He sat on a bench nearby, running a hand through his hair, nerves gnawing at him. He was exhausted, but every minute felt electric.
When the doors finally opened, Curtis stepped inside — his pulse hammering in his throat.
The air was thick with perfume and low music. Warm light flickered across mirrored walls.
A receptionist greeted him in perfect Japanese. "Good evening, sir. Do you have a reservation?"
He cleared his throat. "No, but… I'm looking for someone. Her name is Allison Kelley."
The woman's smile didn't falter. "I'm sorry, sir, we don't disclose staff information."
"I just need to talk to her. Please. It's important."
"I'm afraid that won't be possible."
He tried again, desperate. "Then let me in. I'll pay whatever it takes."
The woman blinked, taken aback, but when he slipped an envelope of yen across the counter — she hesitated, then quietly led him in.
Curtis found a seat at the bar. The lights dimmed.
"Tonight's cabaret showcase," the bartender said in English. "You'll enjoy it."
But he wasn't listening.
And then — there she was.
Under the stage lights, she appeared like a vision — poised, radiant, confident. The years melted away. She moved with grace, smiling politely at the crowd, her laughter soft but clear above the music.
He forgot how to breathe.
She had changed — older, sharper, more assured — but she was still unmistakably her.
The song ended to applause. The lights softened.
He couldn't move, couldn't blink. His fingers curled around the glass until his knuckles turned white.
When the performance ended, he stood immediately. "I'd like to speak with the last performer," he told the bartender.
"I'm sorry, sir," came the polite reply.
"She's not available for private company."
"I'll pay double," Curtis said quickly.
"Triple."
The bartender shook his head, apologetic. "It's not a matter of money, sir. Let me get someone who can help you."
Before Curtis could say another word, the man hurried off and soon returned with the assistant manager. Curtis asked again — calm but insistent — if he could have a few minutes with the last performer from the show.
The assistant manager bowed politely, her tone firm yet courteous. "I'm sorry, sir, but she's not a hostess."
After a few rounds of polite refusals and growing frustration, Curtis finally stepped back, exhaling hard. His heart pounded against his ribs. He needed air. His hands trembled slightly as he ran them through his hair, trying to collect himself, to stay grounded.
And then—
"Excuse me, sir. Is everything all right?"
The voice was soft, composed. Familiar.
He turned.
Just a few feet away, holding a clipboard, dressed in a simple black dress that managed to look impossibly elegant. A small name pin gleamed under the light: Allison Kelley – General Manager.
Her hair was swept into a low, graceful bun. Her expression was calm, professional… but warm. Completely unaware of the chaos she had just awakened inside him.
Curtis's breath caught.
After all this time—after all the searching—she was right there. And she didn't even know.