The sound of running water gurgled from the tiny kitchen tucked into Haruka's minuscule rental room.

She had just washed the dinner dish from last night—instant oyakodon she ordered off the app. As simple as it was, it actually did taste as comforting as Kaito said. Soft, warm, and somehow calming.

Haruka glanced at the sticky note still taped by the window.

"Wanna have oyakodon tomorrow? It's soft and comforting."

She read that line over and over again last night. Even while she was sleeping, she kept wondering, Did he know I needed that so badly?

She pulled out her wallet app this morning and looked at her balance.

Her brow furrowed. The number was… low. Too low.

She clenched her lip.

She hadn't noticed how many times she'd ordered in from the previous couple of days. She hadn't kept track of how much was left of the small amount she'd cashed out when she'd quit. She made an estimated attempt—it should still be sufficient. Barely.

However, she was starving.

And whether it was a habit, or because she was waiting for another sticky note… she opened the food delivery app again and clicked "order" mindlessly.

Time passed normally. Morning crept towards noon. Haruka reread her diary entries, doodled a little in the margins, and occasionally glanced over at the door.

Thirty minutes later, the bell rang.

Her heart skipped.

A flame of something sparked in her breast, but she quickly tried to suppress it.

She opened the door.

Kaito waited, as always. His hair was slightly messy, but his smile was just as bright as ever.

"Haruka-san," he said. "Same order today? Oyakodon, still your first love?"

Haruka nodded demurely. But before she could reach for the bag, Kaito paused.

Oh—" he gazed at his phone. "Looks like your payment didn't go through. The app says it couldn't process."

Haruka stood frozen.

Her face paled instantly. Her heart thudded in her ears.

"I—I… I'm sorry, I had thought I still had some…" she mumbled, head hung very low.

But Kaito wasn't. Not even a flash of annoyance.

"It's okay," he said nonchalantly. "You can pay later. It's no big deal."

Haruka remained unmoving.

In her former life, neglecting to settle something like this would have entitled her to be yelled at. Scolded. Adjectives such as "irresponsible" or "useless."

But this one, Kaito just smiled. As if it were nothing.

Haruka still refused to lift her head, even as he extended the food bag into her reach.

"If you'd like," he added, looking towards her half-open door, "I can bring you a free drink next time. The nearby minimart usually has promos."

She shook her head once and couldn't form words.

Kaito smiled again, softer this time. "You're not alone, you know."

And he was gone—his footsteps vanishing down the corridor.

Haruka shut the door quietly.

Her hand remained wrapped around the warm bag.

Inside, as ever, was a small yellow sticky note.

She sat on the floor, placed the food in front of her, and smoothed out the crumpled note.

No doodling this time. Just a straight line of marginally slanting, clean handwriting.

"It's not your fault to be tired. But you don't have to go alone."

Silence from Haruka.

She read it a second time. And a third time. And a fourth.

For some reason, those sentences hurt more than she anticipated.

She drew up her knees and hugged them into her chest, eyes welling up as she looked at the note.

She had forced herself to persevere. By herself. Scared to be a burden. Scared to be seen as weak.

But today, simply because someone understood, without criticism—it was… easier.

She pinned the note to the wall, beneath the other three.

Four messages.

Four silent voices that had shadowed her on the loneliest of days.

And while she still didn't have any idea who Kaito was, one thing was definite—those sticky notes weren't all about reminding her to eat.

They were saving her. In silence. Unobtrusively. But sincerely.

That night, while Haruka wrote in her diary, she finished the page with one sentence:

"I forgot to pay today. But he said I don't have to walk alone."