Sun Wukong

The bell above the door chimed softly as Naomi pushed her way into the small eatery, the scent of freshly brewed coffee and sizzling breakfast food washing over her. She exhaled sharply, her breath slightly uneven from the rush.

The place had a cozy, vintage feel—wooden floors, warm lighting, and the low hum of quiet conversations filling the air. A few patrons were scattered around, some hunched over their meals, others lost in their morning routines.

Naomi's eyes darted around, scanning the booths. Then she saw them.

A man and a woman sat near the window, both dressed in crisp corporate attire. The man wore a neatly pressed suit, his tie perfectly knotted, his posture straight but not stiff. The woman had on a sleek white blouse with a navy blazer draped over her shoulders, her fingers lightly tapping against the table as she checked her watch.

They were waiting.

For her.