The Bitter Note

 

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Story Title: “The Bitter Note”

Every Saturday morning, detective Rami Al-Faraj visited Café Sarab—a quiet place in the heart of Muscat where the air always smelled of cinnamon and slow jazz played on vinyl.

He never came for the company. He came for the coffee.

Specifically, the “House Blend”—a secret recipe that only the owner, Amal, prepared.

But one morning, the taste was… different. Sharper.

Richer. And underneath it, a strange bitterness that lingered on the tongue like regret.

As Rami stirred the cup, he noticed something wedged between the saucer and the cup:

A folded napkin.

Written on it in shaky handwriting were just six chilling words:

“He didn’t fall. I pushed him.”

His fingers froze.

That morning marked exactly ten years since the death of Hassan Al-Turki, a businessman who had fallen from a hotel rooftop just blocks away.

The case had been closed. Ruled a suicide. But Rami had never believed it.

He looked up at Amal behind the counter. She smiled, as always. But now… he noticed her eyes were red.

Like someone who hadn’t slept.

Later that night, he returned to the café after closing.

“Why today?” he asked her quietly.

She didn’t deny it.

She didn’t cry.

She only whispered:

“I served him his last coffee.

I watched him walk to the roof.

And I watched someone follow him.”

Rami leaned in.

“Who?”

She handed him a second napkin.

It wasn’t a confession.

It was a list of names.

All people who had visited the café that morning ten years ago.

People who had ordered the same House Blend.

People who had all known Hassan… and had reasons to hate him.

Rami looked down at his half-empty cup.

The bitterness wasn’t in the beans.

It was in the truth.