Where in Mingyu and Wonwoo go to their favorite restaurant and order the same thing every year on the same day.

It was tradition for them to eat out on their wedding anniversary. They would order half a chicken each in their favorite restaurant with their favorite house blend iced tea and begin digging in when the waiter places their order down. It was also tradition for Wonwoo to only eat half of the chicken, bashfully smiling up at Mingyu as he nudges his plate closer to him. Mingyu, in response, would roll his eyes and playfully scold him, but would still finish Wonwoo’s share after his own.

This happened every year and neither of them minded. It was, in fact, their tradition. Even the restaurant knew them already. The owner had noticed them coming in every year and befriended them. Now, every time they came back on the day of their wedding anniversary, they don’t even need to say their orders to the waiters.

On their 32^nd anniversary, when both of them had strands of graying hair and a few fine lines etched on their faces, they go back to the same restaurant. Like always, they sit down and in a few minutes, the waiters serve up their usual order—half a chicken each with a glass of house blend iced tea.

“Oh, sorry, but can I have a glass of warm water instead?” Wonwoo quietly asks, catching both his husband and their waiter by surprise. “My throat is a little itchy.”

“Of course, sir.” The waiter turns on his heels and fetches him a glass.

Mingyu covers Wonwoo’s hand on the table, “Are you okay, dear?”

“Yes, I am. Don’t worry. Like I said, my throat is a little itchy.”

They share a smile and start to eat, Wonwoo eating only half of his chicken and Mingyu finishing it for him.

On their 39^th anniversary, Wonwoo still orders water and forgets there’s a glass of iced tea for him.

Mingyu doesn’t mind.

On their 46^th anniversary, Wonwoo barely touches his chicken.

“Aren’t you hungry?”

“I had such a heavy breakfast, dear. I’m sorry. Maybe we can have this for dinner later.”

Mingyu casts him an unsure smile. “Okay.”

When Wonwoo wraps his utensils into the napkin, Mingyu lets his face fall into a concerned frown.

They didn’t have breakfast that morning.

On their golden anniversary, the owner of the restaurant pays for their meal and adds a few more side dishes and a dessert for them to share.

Mingyu noticed how overwhelmed Wonwoo was at the sight of so much food.

Wonwoo sees him looking and beams widely at him, “Happy anniversary, dear. Shall we eat?”

“Happy anniversary.” They lean into each other to share a quick peck before picking up their utensils and digging in.

And for the first time ever, Wonwoo had eaten more than 3 bites of his food—more so, he finished more than half.

Mingyu grinned at him, not noticing the sauce spilling on the corner of his mouth until Wonwoo looks over and chuckles, reaching over to wipe it with the pad of his thumb and swiping his tongue over the sweet sauce.

“We have a lot to eat, dear.”

“I know. I love you.”

There was fleeting look of hurt in Wonwoo’s eyes that Mingyu missed because Wonwoo recovers with a smile, “I know. I love you, too.”

The next anniversary, they didn’t show up. Or the next one after that. Or the next one after that. The owner of the restaurant had retired and left his business to his son. Most of the employees were new by the time an elderly walks in with a crutch in his hand to support his frame.

“Good afternoon, sir. Table for 1?” The new owner greets.

A sad smile graced the senior’s lips. “Yes, young man, just for one.”

He helps him to his table and was just about to hand him a menu, but the old man stops him. “2 half chickens with your house blend iced tea.”

“Okay, sir. It’ll be ready in awhile.”

The new owner watches him peacefully finish one and half the chicken he ordered and wipe his lips with a napkin. The elderly man calls for him and he prepares his take-out. He pays for his meal and sighs, closing his eyes.

As the new owner calls for a busboy to clean up, he clears his throat. “I’m sorry to bother you, sir. But may I ask how long you’ve been coming into this restaurant?”

His eyes open, weary but excited to recount his memories. He pats the seat beside him and the new owners sits down. He begins to tell him how he and his husband came here every year for their wedding anniversary, ordering the same thing every time. He even told him about how his husband would only finish half of his chicken and makes him finish the rest.

“The take-out is for him, then?” The new owner thanks the waiter that delivers the one-fourth of the chicken the elderly did not touch.

“Ah, yes. I’ll drop by the flower shop first before I go to the cemetery.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, sir.”

“Don’t be, young man, and please, do call me Mingyu.”

“Chan, sir.” He holds out his hand and they shortly shake each other’s.

“I should go now, thank you for the meal.”