When Jace returned to the café, Ren grabbed him like he expected him to disappear. "What happened? Are you okay? Did someone—"
Jace hugged him tightly. "I'm okay. I'm… finally okay."
Faye stepped forward quietly. Her expression was tense, but hopeful. "Did you make your decision?"
Jace nodded once. Slow. Sure.
"I have to leave."
The café groaned—actually groaned—as if in protest.
Several lights flickered violently. A mug cracked on its own. A tremor rolled under the floorboards like a wave of grief.
Faye steadied herself. "Then we do this properly."
She handed him a blank drink ticket.
Jace stared at it. His chest tightened. His throat burned. The ticket felt heavier than paper should—like it already knew what he would write.
Ren whispered, "We'll be okay. You'll be okay."
Jace smiled. "I know."
He picked up a pen.
The café's lights dimmed, pleading.
Jace wrote with a steady hand:
I choose to stop.
Not stay.Not serve.Not bind.
Stop.
He slid the ticket onto the counter.
The café released a long, low exhale. Not angry. Not violent.
Sad.
Faye placed her hand over his. "You did more than anyone ever asked of you. You don't owe the café another second."
Jace nodded, tears stinging his eyes. "Thank you… for everything."
Ren walked him to the door. "Don't disappear from my life, okay?"
"Never."
He stepped outside.
The moment he crossed the threshold, the café's neon sign flickered once—bright, brilliant—then dimmed to a soft glow.
A goodbye.
Jace walked.
And didn't look back.