The next afternoon was unusually quiet.
Only a few customers sat scattered around the café, the soft hum of the espresso machine filling the silence.
Qinran wiped down the counter absentmindedly, glancing toward the back office.
"Come to think of it…" she said casually, lowering her voice. "I've never seen the Boss's family come here."
Nana paused mid-motion.
For a moment, she didn't respond.
Then she sighed.
"…Yesterday was her husband's death anniversary."
Qinran froze slightly. "Oh."
Nana leaned against the counter, her usual cheerful tone gone.
"This café… it was actually her husband's. Mr. Chen Xuan started it from scratch. Boss only took over after he passed."
Qinran looked around slowly — the wooden shelves, the framed menu, the warm yellow lights.
It suddenly felt different.
"He died in a car accident," Nana continued quietly. "About three years ago."
Qinran's hand tightened slightly around the cloth she was holding.
"Her son was with him that day. He insisted on tagging along."
The café felt even quieter now.
"He survived… but he's been in a coma ever since."
The words settled heavily between them.
"That's why she works like this every single day," Nana said softly. "Hospital bills don't stop."
Qinran swallowed.
Nana stared at the coffee machine, eyes distant.
"She always says… if she had stopped her husband from going to work that day… if she had told her son to stay home…" Nana's voice thinned. "Maybe the accident wouldn't have happened."
An ordinary morning.
An ordinary decision.
And it became the last time she saw her husband alive.
The last time she saw her child healthy.
"She didn't even argue with him that day," Nana added quietly. "She said goodbye like normal."
That somehow made it worse.
Qinran looked toward the empty office door.
She imagined the Boss standing behind the counter every day, smiling faintly at customers, calculating bills, checking inventory…
All while carrying that weight.
"I'm sorry," Qinran said softly.
Nana gave a small nod.
"She's strong," she said. "But strength doesn't mean it doesn't hurt."
Silence returned.
The bell above the café door chimed as a customer entered.
Qinran straightened.
But as she turned to greet them, her eyes drifted once more around the café.
This wasn't just a place that sold coffee and internet.
It was someone's memory.
Someone's unfinished life.
And someone's hope that a boy might open his eyes one day.
Without another word, she went back to work.