"Maybe I have." Lyla gave a small laugh. "But I'm tired of feeling like a guest in my own life."
A beat passed between them before Rose finally nodded. "Alright. Ramyun stall it is."
The sun was starting to set when they reached the little stall nestled near the crossing. The place hadn't changed much—still had the red vinyl roof, plastic tables with wobbly legs, and the comforting smell of spicy broth in the air.
The ajumma behind the counter smiled warmly as they approached. "Ah! You girls are back—been a while!"
Rose greeted her like usual, smoothly covering the awkward pause Lyla had when the woman recognized her. "It's been busy. We've missed your stew."
They sat down at their usual table—though Lyla didn't realize it was theirs. As the hot bowls arrived, steam curling up with familiar spice, Lyla found herself relaxing. The food tasted good. Maybe even nostalgic. She didn't remember the taste, but something about it made her heart feel… calm.
