the kind of light that makes you wish time could slow down.

I walked toward the café, clutching my bag tighter than usual.

The city was alive — laughter, chatter, the sound of passing cars —

yet my heart beat louder than all of it.

I didn’t know if it was excitement… or fear.

When I reached, she was already there.

Tsukiko — sitting by the window, sunlight brushing against her hair,

her fingers tracing the rim of her cup like she was trying to calm her own thoughts.

She looked up — and smiled.

That same gentle smile… but softer this time, a little more real.

“You’re late,” she said, voice teasing but quiet.

“Sorry,” I replied, sliding into the seat across from her. “I… took the long way.”

The words came out awkward, but she laughed — that small, fragile laugh that still found a way to reach my chest.

For a while, we tried to study.

Books opened, pens in hand, but the air between us was filled with everything except words on a page. It was like we had created our own little world in the corner of the café.

Every time our eyes met, one of us would look away.

Every small brush of her hand sent a ripple through my veins.

And yet, I couldn’t say what I wanted to.

I kept wondering how beautiful she is and then I remembered what I said that day —

We’re just friends.

The words still echoed like a curse I’d cast on myself.

She pointed at a question in the book, leaning closer. Our noses barely touching as she pointed down at the question. Her eyes shining and her cheeks faintly pink.

Her hair fell over her shoulder, and for a moment, I could smell the faint scent of rain and jasmine —

the same scent from the night of our date.

“Haruto?” she asked softly, her voice bringing me back.

“You’re… spacing out again.”

“Ah—sorry,” I stammered, pretending to read.

She smiled, eyes searching mine for something I wasn’t ready to give.

Minutes turned into hours.

The sun outside dimmed into a warm orange,

and the café’s soft lights flickered on, wrapping us in a kind of quiet magic.

When we finally packed our things, neither of us moved to leave.

We just sat there — two cups half-empty, two hearts too full.

She looked at me then, her voice barely a whisper.

“You know… studying with you feels easier somehow.”

My heart faltered.

I wanted to tell her that everything felt easier with her — that the world made sense when she smiled.

But all I said was,

“Yeah… me too.”

We walked outside together, side by side under the gentle hum of the evening sky.

For once, the silence didn’t feel heavy.

It felt like a song — slow, shy, and fragile.

As we reached the station, she turned to me with that soft, almost broken smile but also her eyes were filled with hope.

“See you tomorrow, Haruto.”

And just like that — she was gone,

leaving me standing under the dim streetlight,

heart still trembling from everything I didn’t say.