A Strawberry Matcha Affair: finale

The Mix

Sep 16, 2025

Sokari was in fact scared. But not for the reasons she thought.

The first time she left, he felt it—the quiet echoes of her absence, but he shrugged it off. It can’t be that deep. I barely know her, that's what he told himself. But the ache persisted. So when the three dots flickered under her name on iMessage that night, he saw a way back in—and he took it.

A simple decision that led to one of the best summers he's had in years.

But now, marching down Queens Quay West, nearly a month after she left, the ache was back—tenfold. His knuckles tightened around Peter’s bag, his heart raced with uncertainty, and he walked like a man on a doomed mission—with precision, rigour and a blank stare.

Crossing over to York street, his familiar irritation flared as he walked by Love Park. What sort of love lives in the middle of the road with all this noise? If anything, the Music Garden should be called the Love Garden, he muttered.

This led to more memories of her.

Like the time she casually mentioned the Amachree dynasty, like it was weather banter. Like it was nothing to bat an eye at. She had taken the time to get to know him—his history—and he felt seen.

It wasn’t just her smarts or undeniable beauty that pulled him in, but the way she found joy in the mundane—shrieking and squealing at the sight of fish in the harbour, or keeping count of how long a goose stayed under water (56 seconds, her record). “Can you see? Do you see that!” She’d say with so much zeal. Her excitement fuelled his, which fuelled hers, until they spun themselves into an endless loop of unrestrained excitement.

With her, they didn’t just pass through the city, the city passed through them. With each moment—extraordinary or mundane—leaving its mark, just as they left theirs.

Fuelled by these moments, his feelings for her grew beyond his control.

He was scared shitless—scared because he knew if she asked for the moon, his only response would be: Which one?

This loss of sensibility rattled him. And so in an act of defiance or self preservation he let her go. He needed proof of his sanity, he needed to know he was still in control.

A decision he now regrets.

Fast approaching Front Street West, his pace quickened. He wasn’t at risk of missing his train—he had time. The journey to Kingston would also take a little over two hours, yet he moved with senseless urgency, as though what he felt came with a ticking clock.

Finally on Front Street West; patches of sweat on his face, his feet weighing a ton, he breaks through the anime crowd to get to the station. He’d normally stick around for the fan fare, but not today. He passes a man in a Joker costume—a clown he thought. That's what he must look like. With nothing but a brown bag of matcha and pureé, he hopes to win her back. Not much of a plan, is it?

Funmi had time to kill after her Tim Hortons stop, so she wandered the hall with the glass exhibitions behind Gate 17. At the far west end, a display with fun facts caught her attention, and she stopped to read.

This is Toronto’s third Union Station.

The previous structures were located on Front Street

Between York and Simcoe.

Just west of today’s building

Done reading, she looked towards Gate 17 for any signs of boarding—there was none. Instead, she saw something else or rather someone.

No. It can’t be. There's no way, she muttered.

She debated whether or not to investigate, unsure she wanted to see him—if it was him. But in the end, her curiosity won.

She took quick, quiet steps towards him, careful to stay out of his line of sight. With each stride, the red shirt, baggy trousers, bald head, and broad shoulders came into focus. It was undeniably him. What was he doing here? Her heart raced, her legs stiffened. She stood behind him, silent, as he read the display.

…Canadian writer and historian Pierre Berton estimated that Union Station welcomed more than half a million immigrants during its heyday. He called the Station the ‘soul and heartbeat of Toronto’...

“It’s fascinating isn’t it? The number of people that came through this very place.”

Sokari turned almost immediately, his face pale, as if he’d just seen a ghost.

“What are you doing here?” Sokari blurted.

“Going home. What are you doing here?” She asked in return, her tone carefully indifferent.

“I thought you left yesterday.”

“No. I had some things to take care of. So I pushed my trip by a day.”

“Oh… okay.” he said, looking out of sorts. Then added, “…You look really good.”

“Thanks,” she said awkwardly.

A cold silence slithered between them, lasting longer than either appreciated.

“Listen… last time, about what I said…”

“It’s okay.” Sokari replied.

“No it’s not. I’m sorry.”

He nodded in response.

“So, you didn’t answer my question earlier. Where are you going?”

“Going to Kingston… To see you.”

“Okay… Why? Also, what if I wasn’t home or didn’t want to see you?” She asked.

Sokari shrugged, then half-smiled. “I got you your favourite, from Peter’s.” Holding up the brown bag, as though it held the answers to her queries.

Amused and a little confused, she laughed. “What?”

“Yeah. I mean, not the whole thing but parts of it, see.” He opened the bag up, showing her the pureé and matcha. “My plan was to mix it up on arrival.”

The gesture warmed her heart; her eyes glistened. This was what she liked about him, she thought—his sweet, thoughtful gestures. But why this one? She wondered.

“Thanks? But again, why?” She asked.

“I thought about what you said. I’d like to explore something more… serious.” His face tightened, his eyes intent, “I’d like you to be my person.”

Taken aback, she stayed silent, letting the words sink in. A month ago, she would’ve said yes without hesitation. But now, despite wanting to, she doubted its sincerity, or what the point was. She leaves for Kingston in a few minutes.

“Your P.A? Your shroom guy? Your masseuse? What does person mean? She asked, feigning confusion.

Sokari half-smiled. “My girlfriend.” He stepped closer, held her gaze and rested his hand on her lower back. “Be my girlfriend,” he said.

Caught in his stare, her legs refusing to move; she stood frozen. She knew what he meant earlier, but hearing the actual words out loud, left her stuck in indecision.

Eventually she broke free, and walked quietly towards the glass display titled REVITALIZATION PROJECT, where she paused.

“That’s wild” She said, to no one in particular.

“What?” Sokari asked after catching up with her.

“Adding a whole new level to the station without shutting it down, that's crazy.”

“Did you hear what I said earlier?” Sokari asked, his voice edged with expectation.

“270,000 square feet of digging! And Union station remained open.”

He half-sighed, then replied “Yeah… that’s crazy.”

The ground beneath them began to vibrate—they could feel it in their spine: the arrival of a train.

“Why now? Why the change of heart? Also… I’ll be in Kingston, what’s the point?”

He could tell her how much clearer the world felt with her beside him, how their conversations were the best parts of his day. That he preferred the version of himself he was with her, or that her presence alone left him content. But instead, he replied, “Because… Because I fuck with you.”

For a bit, Funmi stood quietly, then blurted, “What does that even mean??” She was equal parts amused and frustrated—torn by the indecision it stirred in her.

The arrivals from Gate 12 flooded the hallway, it was getting rowdy. A queue was beginning to form at Gate 17.

“I honestly don’t know what else to say… except, I fuck with you.” He held her again, as though the repeated words came with new meaning.

Train 64 was boarding.

She hesitated a bit, still unsure, but eventually broke his hold, and walked quickly towards Gate 17. Leaving Sokari behind without a word.

As she walked down the hall and through the gate, she told herself to keep it moving, but his words loomed in her mind: Be my person. Girlfriend. I fuck with you. With each replayed word her resolve softened, her legs stiffened. And soon, without warning, her legs betrayed her, she stopped abruptly, caught between the world of sense and desire.

Jesu, she muttered, because she knew sense never stood a chance when it came to him. And so heart racing, heels turned backwards, she doubled back.

Back in the hallway and not slowing down, Funmi bumped into Sokari as she passed, neither turning or saying a word.

Sokari, ready to unleash his frustrations on whoever the fool was, steadied himself, looked up, and saw Funmi near the exit, half-smiling.

“Where are you going?” He yelled, heart racing, confused.

“It’s 11!” Funmi shot back.

“So?”

“I’m going to Peter’s!”

“Why?”

She grinned, spun, then yelled, “Because I fuck with you too!”

With a wide smile, he ran to her without hesitation.

She laughed as he swept her off the ground in a warm embrace. Midair and breathless with joy, she blurted, “You’re getting us new tickets.”

Epilogue

I had a lot of fun exploring my favourite parts of Toronto through fiction. And while Sokari and Funmi are fictional characters, Peter’s not. He’s very much as lovely as Sokari describes, and so is his place—Cuckoo Cakery.

And so, if you’re in the neighbourhood, check it out. I hear the Strawberry Matcha Latte slaps.