The streets, the sky, even the air — all seemed softer, as if the world itself was still replaying the sound of her laughter in that café.

My heart was heavy… but not in pain.

It was the weight of words left unsaid, and the calm that comes after holding them too long.

When I reached my room, I opened my diary with trembling hands, ready to write — but then something caught my eye.

A familiar cover, tucked inside my bag.

Tsukiko’s notes.

Her handwriting — neat, small, precise — like her.

And tomorrow’s exam… she’d need them.

I must give them back to her immediately.

I picked up my phone, tried calling — no signal, just the lonely hum of static.

The thought of Tsukiko scoring low in the exam because of me haunted me like a nightmare.

For a moment, I hesitated.

Then I sighed, grabbed my coat, and stepped back into the fading light.

---

Her house wasn’t far — a quiet corner of the city where the air smelled faintly of cedar and rain.

I stood at the gate, nerves fluttering in my chest. Walking toward her house felt like stepping into a small war inside my chest.

Okay, just return the notes. Don’t be weird. Just act normal.

I reassured myself nervously and tried practicing an awkward smile.

The door opened immediately after I knocked.

A warm, cheerful voice greeted me.

“Oh my... Hi."

She took a glance at me and then she smiled knowingly.

"You must be Haruto!”

Her mother — smiling wide, eyes twinkling with curiosity.

She looked at me the way only mothers do — like she already knew everything.

“Come in, come in! Tsukiko talks about you sometimes.”

She winked.

“I—uh, thank you,” I stammered, stepping inside the soft-lit home that smelled faintly of tea and fresh laundry.

She called up the stairs,

“Tsukiko! You have a visitor!”

And then—

footsteps.

Tsukiko appeared at the top of the stairs, her hair a little messy, wearing a loose shirt and shorts.

For a moment, we both froze.

It was the first time I’d seen her outside that perfectly polished world — hair scattered, shirt loose — and somehow she looked even more real, more beautiful.

Another layer of her I’d never seen before.

Her eyes widened —

“Ha–Haruto?!”

I raised the notebook helplessly.

“Y-you forgot this.”

Her face flushed crimson.

Before she could respond, her mother grinned — the kind of grin that made me want to vanish on the spot.

“Well, well… come on, you two. Don’t just stand there — go to her room, talk! I’ll bring tea.”

---

We sat in her room — a small, soft space filled with books, sketches, and little notes pinned to the wall.

It felt like her — quiet, thoughtful, a little messy in a beautiful way.

I handed her the notes.

“I was… worried you’d miss them before the exam.”

She smiled faintly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Thanks. You didn’t have to come all the way.”

“I wanted to.”

The words slipped out before I could stop them.

Her cheeks reddened again, but she didn’t look away.

For a moment the world faded into the background as we looked into each other's eyes sparkling with truth we couldn't speak.

Then — the door creaked open.

Her mother stepped in, carrying a tray with tea and biscuits, sitting down far too comfortably beside us.

“What’s going on here?” she asked, smiling.

“Did I interrupt something?”

Our faces turned red as she handed us the tea, her eyes sparkling with a knowing look.

“So…” she began, eyes gleaming with mischief,

“Are you two dating?”

I nearly dropped my cup.

Tsukiko’s hand froze mid-air.

“I—no! We’re—”

But before I could finish, her voice broke through mine gathering all the courage in the world— soft but steady.

The word hung in the air — quiet, trembling, but bright enough to change everything.

Her face turned scarlet, her eyes fixed on her cup.

Her mother blinked, surprised — then smiled, as if something she’d long hoped for had finally come true.

I sat there, stunned.

And yet… somewhere deep inside, my heart exhaled — like it had been waiting to hear that all along.

---

After that we sat in silence for a while.

When I finally stood to leave, Tsukiko walked me to the door.

The world outside had turned to dusk — that fleeting hour when the sky blushes and the wind begins to hum.

We stood there, side by side, both too shy to move.

Everything felt heavier and lighter at the same time.

She looked at me, eyes trembling with something unspoken. We couldn't speak as if words would only ruin the moment. But I had to say something.

And before I could say anything —

she stepped closer, her hands brushing my face, and her lips kissed me softly on the cheek.

Just once — quick, warm, trembling — like a heartbeat made real.

In that brief touch, I felt everything she’d been trying to say.

Then she pulled away, face burning, voice barely a whisper.

“See you tomorrow.”

And she ran inside, the door closing gently behind her.

I stood there for a long time, my hand pressed to my cheek,

the air still carrying her scent, the sound of her voice echoing in my chest.