I feel like I’m falling through endless time.

A stream of memories—not mine, yet somehow mine—rush past me in fragments. Whispers, faces blurred, moments of laughter tangled with cries of pain. I’m sinking, deeper and deeper, and in that vast ocean of silence, a single hand reaches out.

Her hand.

If I can just hold on, maybe I won’t lose her. Maybe I won’t drown.

I stretch forward, every nerve in my body screaming to touch her fingertips—

And then I wake up.

My hand is raised stiffly toward the ceiling fan above my bed, trembling in the dim morning light. A thin line of sweat trails down my temple.

It takes a moment before I realize.

Just another nightmare.

I exhale slowly, letting my arm drop back onto the mattress. But the heaviness doesn’t leave. My chest aches as though the dream carved something into me—something I’m not supposed to forget.

---

The morning routine follows like always. Washing my face, staring too long at the mirror, cooking breakfast no one else will eat. But today, silence feels heavier. Even the ticking clock seems louder than it should be.

At college, the day moves in fragments. Teachers drone, chalk scrapes across the blackboard, classmates whisper and laugh. I drift through it all half-awake, half-watching the door as though expecting her to walk in at any moment.

And then she does.

Tsukiko.

She slips into her seat with the ease of someone who belongs, sunlight grazing the side of her face. Our eyes meet for just a moment, and a warmth spreads through me like morning spilling into night.

---

By lunch, I can’t resist.

The rooftop greets us again, the same quiet corner above the world. She’s there before me, legs folded neatly, hair tugged lightly by the wind.

“You always come here,” she says, her lips curving into that familiar playful smile.

“And you?” I ask.

She tilts her head. “Maybe I like following you around.”

Her words catch me off guard. She says them so casually, but my heart slams against my ribs.

“Dangerous thing to admit,” I manage, trying to sound calm.

She laughs, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Then maybe I didn’t mean it.”

“Or maybe you did,” I counter, surprising myself.

The air shifts between us. Not heavy, but charged, like something unsaid lingers in the space between our breaths.

---

As we eat, she steals a bite from my lunch without warning, eyes gleaming mischievously.

“Hey!” I protest, but the sight of her chewing happily makes me laugh despite myself.

“You said no one ever tries to steal your food,” she teases, holding her chopsticks like a weapon.

“Then I’ll have to reconsider trusting you,” I shoot back.

Her laughter rings bright across the rooftop, and for a moment, everything feels simple. Natural. Like this is where we were always meant to be.

---