The morning after felt heavier.

Even though the sun was the same, its warmth didn’t reach as far.

Haruto walked through the school gates with a half-hearted smile, the kind that tries to hide the weight underneath.

He still greeted Tsukiko when their paths crossed — still waved, still smiled — but somewhere between the smiles and silences, something had changed.

Her laughter was softer now.

Her eyes, though still bright, carried a faint distance — as if she were looking through him instead of at him.

And Haruto… didn’t understand why.

He only felt that he had somehow broken something without knowing how to fix it.

---

Days passed like this — quietly.

They sat together during breaks sometimes, exchanged small jokes, even walked part of the way home.

But the warmth that once came so naturally now felt forced.

Every word seemed to come after a pause.

Every smile was practiced.

Tsukiko would glance at him when he wasn’t looking — and quickly turn away before he noticed.

Haruto caught those glances sometimes, but instead of asking, he only smiled back like he always did.

Neither of them spoke the truth, and so the silence grew heavier, invisible but real.

---

One afternoon, during homeroom, the teacher announced that the midterm exams were coming soon.

Groans filled the classroom, but Tsukiko’s eyes quietly drifted to Haruto’s desk.

He was scribbling half-hearted notes, pretending to focus, lost in thought as always.

When the bell rang and the room emptied, Haruto found himself once again on the rooftop.

The same quiet wind brushed past — familiar, almost comforting now in its loneliness.

He didn’t know that Tsukiko was climbing the stairs behind him.

Her hands clutched her lunchbox nervously, her heart echoing in her chest.

When she stepped onto the rooftop, Haruto turned and smiled — that same soft, polite smile that used to mean something more.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey,” she replied, her voice just above a whisper.

They sat side by side for a while, eating in silence.

The city stretched out before them, the sky wide and empty.

Every few moments, one of them would try to speak — but stop halfway.

The words never came out right.

When the bell for class drew near, they stood to leave.

Another silence followed — the kind that hurts more than any argument could.

Tsukiko took a deep breath.

Her fingers fidgeted with her sleeve, her voice trembling slightly as she forced a small smile.

“Um… Haruto,” she said.

He turned, surprised by her tone.

“Do you… want to go out after school? Just to study. There’s this café near the station… I could help you review for exams.”

For a moment, neither of them moved.

Her eyes held a quiet desperation, a flicker of hope — or maybe a plea.

Haruto nodded slowly, his heart unsure but moved.

“Yeah… that sounds nice.”

Tsukiko’s smile lingered — faint, shy, trembling.

It wasn’t the same smile as before, but it was something.

As they walked back down the stairs, both of them felt the same strange pull in their chest —

the kind of feeling that comes before something changes.

And as the door closed behind them, the wind whispered through the empty rooftop —

carrying away the silence they left behind…

and the beginning of something neither of them could name.

---