Her hand was warm when it touched mine.
Not soft in a fragile way.
Warm in a certain way.
We both let go at the same time.
For a second, neither of us said anything — as if the air itself understood that something small had just been set in motion.
We reached the station.
The evening trains screeched faintly in the distance. Announcements echoed overhead. The sky above the platform was slowly fading from orange to deep blue.
She turned to face me.
“Thanks for walking with me,” she said lightly. “See you tomorrow. Byee.”
Then she added, pointing a finger at me playfully—
“Don’t forget to work hard.”
I scoffed quietly.
As if I needed the reminder.
She stepped backward toward the platform.
The train arrived.
And just like that — she was gone.
On my way home, something felt… different.
The streets were quieter now. Streetlights flickered on one by one. The air was cooler.
And for some reason —
I felt lighter.
Not happy.
Not exactly.
But… easy.
Why?
I kept walking, hands in my pockets.
Why did I feel that way?
When I stepped inside my house, the familiar darkness greeted me.
Stillness.
Silence.
The same walls. The same air.
It was always like this.
No matter how much you try to change the outside world, it doesn’t matter if the light never reaches inside.
If the inside remains still.
Cold.
Unmoved.
I stood there for a moment.
Then I noticed it.
The hallway window.
The curtains were open.
Orange sunlight spilled across the floor in a quiet line.
After Aira came home that day… I had started leaving the curtains open.
I never admitted it.
But I did.
Dinner was simple.
I helped myself like always.
And like always, I made a plate for my father too — placing it carefully on the table the way he does for me in the mornings.
That’s our routine.
Our only interaction.
A silent exchange of meals.
I sat down and began eating.
The ticking clock filled the room.
Then—
The promise.
It slipped back into my mind without permission.
Why did I agree to that?
Do I want her to go out with me?
No.
Maybe I just want her to leave me alone.
That sounded safer.
But then my eyes drifted to the notes on the wall.
My father’s handwriting.
Careful. Quiet. Trying.
Or maybe…
I wasn’t strong enough to make decisions like before.
Maybe instead of choosing something myself —
I let fate decide.
If I win, she goes with Miyamura.
If I lose, I go with her.
Either way, I didn’t have to choose.
Cowardly.
I finished my meal and carried the plates to the sink.
The water ran.
The dishes clinked.
Everything normal.
Too normal.
I went to my room and opened my math book.
There’s no way I’m losing to her in a math test.
But that means she’ll go out with Miyamura.
I stared at the page.
Numbers. Equations. Familiar territory.
I studied for a while.
But I didn’t push myself.
Not harder.
Not sharper.
Maybe I didn’t need to.
Or maybe…
I didn’t want to.
I closed the book and lay down.
The ceiling above me looked the same as every night.
I tried to sleep.
Some time later—
I heard it.
My door opening.
…He’s here again.
For the past few days, my father had been coming home late. He would open my door slightly. Stand there. Then leave.
Never stepping in.
Never speaking.
Just… lingering.
But tonight was different.
The door didn’t just open.
Footsteps followed.
Slow.
Careful.
Closer.
He stepped inside.
My heart started racing.
Why did he come in?
What should I do?
When was the last time he entered my room?
Years ago.
Why now?
Then—
I heard my name.
“Arisu.”
Not written.
Not left on paper.
Spoken.
Soft.
Real.
And for some reason—
That single word
felt heavier than any silence we had ever shared.
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