"You wanted him to take you home, right?" Makoto's voice was light, almost teasing, as he kept his eyes on the road, but the underlying weight in his tone betrayed him.
A forced chuckle escaped his lips.
"I-I don't." Ayaka stammered, turning quickly toward the window, as if the passing scenery could hide the truth from both of them.
There was a beat of silence before Makoto replied, his smile faltering. "Even if you say that… it's written all over your face."
His voice was quieter now, and when Ayaka glanced at him from the corner of her eye, she saw it—the sadness that had crept into his expression.
The light in his emerald eyes dimmed, his grip on the steering wheel tightening ever so slightly.
Ayaka said nothing.
She knew there was no point in denying it.
The truth she had tried so hard to suppress was starting to catch up with her, and it showed.
No matter how much she smiled or tried to move forward, her heart remained stuck in a past that hadn't really ended.
Eventually, the car rolled to a stop in front of her apartment building.
"We're here." Makoto said softly, pulling the key from the ignition with a mechanical click.
The silence that followed was heavier than before.
The two stepped out of the car, and Makoto quietly grabbed her luggage without waiting for her to ask.
Together, they walked to the doorstep, their footsteps echoing in the still evening air.
"Thank you for taking me home, Makoto." Ayaka said, bowing slightly.
Her voice was polite—too polite.
Distant.
Makoto managed a faint smile. "Always welcome."
She lifted her hand in a small wave, fingers trembling slightly as she turned to unlock her door.
But just as she pushed it open, his voice called out behind her.
"Ayaka."
She froze.
Her hand paused on the doorknob, heart skipping.
Slowly, she turned around, her brows furrowed. "What is it?"
Makoto opened his mouth, but the words caught in his throat.
For a moment, he just looked at her—truly looked—like he was memorizing every detail.
The slope of her shoulders, the hesitation in her eyes, the sadness that clung to her like a second skin.
"…Never mind." he finally said with a soft, almost broken laugh. "I need to get back to work anyway."
He turned before she could respond, walking away quickly, shoulders a little too stiff.
Ayaka stood there, staring after him until he disappeared down the path.
The door closed with a quiet click, and the silence swallowed the hallway.
------
An hour later, Makoto returned to his place, the soft buzz of city life outside muted behind the walls of his modern apartment.
He didn't bother taking off his jacket.
Instead, he walked straight into his home office, sat at his desk, and opened his laptop.
The screen glowed back at him—empty.
Just like his thoughts.
Just like the space beside him.
He stared at the blank document, fingers hovering over the keyboard, unmoving.
He had told himself he could do it.
That he could stay by her side, even if it meant standing in the shadow of a man who had left, who had made her cry, who had taken her heart with him when he disappeared.
He thought that maybe, just maybe, if he was patient enough… she would see him.
Truly see him.
But earlier—he had seen it.
The flicker in her eyes when she spoke of Akihiko, the way her gaze drifted toward the places where memories lived.
It was always him.
Always.
Makoto's jaw clenched as he closed the laptop with a soft thud.
He leaned back in his chair and stared up at the ceiling, swallowing hard against the lump in his throat.
"…It's still him." he murmured to no one.
The bitter smile tugging at his lips didn't reach his eyes.
And yet, even now, he couldn't walk away.
Because a part of him still hoped.
A part of him still loved.
And that part refused to let go.
-----
Soft sunlight poured through the tall boutique windows, casting a golden glow over rows of elegant gowns.
Inside one of the private dressing rooms, laughter and excitement filled the air.
"I feel like a cupcake." Yuki declared dramatically, twirling in a voluminous ball gown.
Keiko snorted. "You look like a princess, admit it."
Yuki stuck out her tongue. "Well, if I'm suffering through multiple fittings, you two are joining me. Come on! No arguments."
Keiko groaned but complied. "You're lucky I love you."
Ayaka, caught mid-sip of her tea, blinked. "Wait—me too?"
"Yes, you too!" Yuki grinned. "You're not escaping. Sometime Ms. Midnight needs to feel like a princess too!"
Reluctantly, Ayaka allowed herself to be swept away by the boutique assistant.
Ayaka stood hesitantly behind the curtain, fingers fidgeting with the silky fabric of the dress.
She could already hear Yuki and Keiko laughing and teasing each other in the fitting area.
"I'm coming out." she mumbled under her breath.
When she stepped into view, time seemed to slow.
She wore a breathtaking princess-style ball gown that shimmered subtly under the boutique lights.
The bodice was delicately structured with intricate floral lace embroidery, hugging her waist with elegant precision.
Tiny seed pearls and silver thread were woven into the lace, catching the light with each movement like dew clinging to petals at dawn.
The neckline was a gentle off-the-shoulder sweetheart cut, revealing the delicate slope of her collarbones and giving her a regal yet tender air.
The sleeves draped off her shoulders like wisps of tulle, soft and ethereal, brushing lightly against her skin.
But it was the skirt—voluminous and layered with fine organza and tulle—that transformed her silhouette entirely.
It cascaded outward in graceful waves, each tier a cloud of soft fabric, edged with barely-there embroidery of silver vines and blossoms that glittered subtly as she moved.
The gown gave the illusion that she wasn't walking, but gliding, like something out of a dream.
A satin ribbon cinched her waist, accentuating her figure while adding a touch of innocence to the otherwise breathtaking look.
Her hair was swept loosely to one side, a few strands framing her face, the rest caught with a simple pearl pin.
She hadn't even realized she was holding her breath.
Silence fell.
Yuki's jaw dropped. "Oh wow... Just wow… Ayaka."
Keiko blinked, stunned for once. "You look—holy hell. You look like you just stepped out of a royal fantasy."
Ayaka's hands flew up in defense, her face burning. "I said this was just for fun! Don't make it weird!"
Keiko grinned, stepping closer. "Too late. You're a literal princess right now. I swear, if Nakamura and Miura saw you like this…"
------
Meanwhile, outside the boutique…
Kaito and Akihiko exited the car, the former stretching his arms above his head. "I didn't think you'd actually come with me." Kaito said, sending his fiancée a quick text.
Akihiko adjusted the cuff of his sleeve, gaze cool. "I thought we were going to discuss your cousin's surgical case."
"Sure." Kaito replied with a smirk. "But you didn't get interested until I accidentally mentioned Yuki, Ito and Yamamoto were trying on wedding dresses today."
Akihiko didn't respond.
His silence was enough of a confession.
Kaito shook his head with a chuckle. "Man, I didn't think you'd take it that seriously. You're not even pretending to be subtle."
"I wanted to see her." Akihiko said plainly.
Kaito grinned. "See who again?"
Akihiko gave him a long, level look.
"Okay I'll stop." Kaito muttered, holding the boutique door open.
The bell above the boutique door jingled.
Ayaka turned instinctively, her breath catching.
And there he was.
Akihiko.
Dressed in his usual crisp black coat, silver hair slightly tousled, his piercing blue eyes scanning the room.
When he saw her—really saw her—his steps slowed.
For a moment, nothing existed but the sound of her heartbeat hammering in her ears.
He said nothing at first.
His gaze swept slowly from the delicate sleeves to the flow of the skirt, to her flushed face framed by soft curls.
His eyes softened with something unreadable—but unmistakably real.
Finally, his voice came, low and even. "...It suits you."
Ayaka blinked, startled by the quiet weight of those words.
"The wedding gown." he added, gaze never leaving hers. "You look... like yourself."
Keiko's eyes sparkled with mischief. "You're blushing again."
"I am not!" Ayaka tried to say, but the words came out strangled.
Yuki nudged Kaito. "This is your fault, you know. Ever since that camping trip you and the Ice Prince have been always going out too!"
Kaito raised both hands. "Hey, he just overheard me and said he wanted to come."
"Really?" Yuki muttered, clearly not buying it.
But Ayaka barely heard them.
Her world had gone quiet—focused entirely on the way Akihiko looked at her.
As if she were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
As if, for a single, fragile moment, there was no distance, no past, no contract between them.
Only her.
And the look in his eyes.