As if on cue, Karin entered and slid into the seat across from her with a latte and an arched brow.

“Finally,” she said, “I was beginning to think you ran off to Paris with that blond guy.”

Yui made a face. “If I wanted emotional chaos and unsolicited drama, I’d start a reality show.”

Karin grinned. “You basically already have. So… are you going to tell me what’s going on between you and Sanada-kun?”

Yui nearly choked on her drink. “Absolutely nothing is going on with that disaster of a human.”

“You mean the same disaster who carried you off the field during P.E. after you nearly fainted? Or the one who used to glare literal daggers at anyone who spread rumors about you this week?”

Yui groaned and buried her face in her arms. “I hate him.”

“So naturally, you’re UNCONSIOUSLY spending time with him, IGNORING your only best friend who I think you forgot even existed!”

She popped her head up. “Don’t even get me started. You know it's not like THAT!. You have seen it yourself right? This whole school loves snooping in on others and make scandals on WHATSOEVER. No one studies. Everyone’s just gossips and parties in mansions like it’s a competition. Plus the GIRLS are after me as if I'm sort of a PREY!”

“You’re deflecting.”

“I am venting,” Yui snapped. “There’s a difference.”

Karin stirred her latte, smirking. “So no feelings for him, huh?”

Yui froze for a fraction of a second too long. Then— “No. OBVIOUSLY NOT!”

Karin raised an eyebrow but didn’t push. “Okay. If you say so.”

Yui stared at her half-empty drink, heart quieter now. In truth, her thoughts about him had been looping for days.

-----

Back at home. At Night.

Yui stepped out of the bathroom with her damp hair wrapped in a towel, still grumbling about Karin's teasing. She tugged the sleeves of her hoodie as she walked into the living room—only to stop short at the scene in front of her.

“…What are you doing?” she asked, blinking.

Yuki sat in the middle of a makeshift pillow fortress on the floor—blankets strung like a tent, plush cushions stacked like a barricade. The TV was paused on an old animated movie, and he was holding two cups of hot cocoa with marshmallows slightly melted at the top.

He didn’t even look at her. “Therapy.”

“…You need a therapist. Not a tent.” 

“You live in my tent now. Cope.”

She rolled her eyes but walked over. “What’s this for?”

He finally looked at her, leaning back on his elbow. “You’ve been twitchy since the rumors. I figured I’d distract you with sugar and childhood regression. I mean I'm still responsible for you considering we are married and all, I dont want to pick up a dead body from my home.”

“-----you are being--- oddly considerate--- eventhough its your usual self. Are you sick?” 

He gave her a smirk. “yeah. I hate that too.”

Yui plopped down across from him, stealing the mug from his hand. “You’re not supposed to drink hot cocoa alone.”

“Not when you steal it first, no.”

They sipped in silence. The blanket tent was warm and cocooned them from the cold air outside. Marshmallows, dim light, the sound of distant traffic—it all felt oddly peaceful. Dangerous, even.

Yuki glanced at her as she toyed with the mug. “You’re thinking too loud.”

She didn’t look at him. “Am I?”

“You’ve been staring at that marshmallow like it ruined your life.”

“I just…” she sighed. “It’s stupid. This whole thing. The rumors. The marriage. The way people look at me like I’m some rival in a dating sim.”

Yuki leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. “It’s not stupid. But I’m warning you now—if you get any more dramatic, I’m revoking your access to the cocoa.”

That made her laugh, quiet and genuine. “You’re annoying.”

“I know.”

She reached for a pillow behind him to readjust it—misjudging the angle, she slipped on the blanket and tipped forward. Yuki’s reflexes kicked in a second too late.

“Whoa—Yukimura—”

They ended up tangled awkwardly, her hand against his chest, faces far too close, his back flat on the floor.

There was a frozen silence. Neither of them moved.

“…I told you you’d fall for me eventually,” Yuki murmured, smirk curling at his lips.

Yui’s eyes widened. “Shut up—!”

But she didn’t move. Couldn’t.

His voice was softer now. “You okay?”

Yui felt a flush bloom up her neck.

She scrambled up with a jolt pushing him away. “T-That was your fault!”

“My back would like to disagree,” he muttered, sitting up and rubbing his head.

She chucked a pillow at his head and went back to her room shutting the door behind her loudly.

---

Later that night, Yui lay in bed, staring at the ceiling.

She replayed the warmth of that accidental moment—how close his face had been, how steady his heartbeat felt under her palm. The stupid smirk. The soft hand at her waist.

And that look in his eyes. The one she couldn’t decipher.

She pulled the blanket over her face with a groan.

“…what in the shoujo manga...is going on in my life...” she muttered.