Night had fallen, and the soft hum of Tokyo traffic outside her window faded into the background as Ayaka sat on the edge of her bed, hugging her knees loosely to her chest.
The dim light of her bedside lamp cast long shadows across the room, but all she could see—etched in the back of her mind with startling clarity—was the way Akihiko had looked at her earlier that day at the wedding boutique.
That gaze.
It hadn't been loud.
It hadn't been possessive or obvious.
But it had pierced straight through her, like moonlight cutting across still water.
There was something unspoken in the way his eyes lingered—slightly wide, almost hesitant.
As if he hadn't been prepared to see her that way.
As if he hadn't realized until that moment that she could look like that—wearing a wedding gown, framed in ivory lace and silence, her heart racing far too fast for someone who was only pretending.
Ayaka slowly sat back up, pressing her fingers into the sheets beneath her as if grounding herself would stop the flutter of memories.
She let her thoughts drift, replaying the scene over and over in her mind until her chest tightened with the weight of it.
"Crap…" she murmured, her voice barely audible in the quiet room.
She closed her eyes, exhaling a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. "I can't hide it anymore…"
Her heart clenched with a mixture of resignation and truth—cold, undeniable truth. "After all these years… it's still him."
She didn't want it to be.
She didn't plan for it to be.
She had tried so hard to bury those feelings, to tell herself it was just the past clinging on.
But moments like today shattered all that careful denial like glass beneath her feet.
She sighed and leaned back against her pillow, eyes fixed on the ceiling.
The silence in the room almost felt heavy now, thick with things unsaid.
Her thoughts drifted to Makoto.
His smile.
His warmth.
The way he made things feel lighter when the world grew too heavy.
"I could tell Makoto now…" she whispered, her brow furrowing. "But…"
She trailed off, staring at the shadows dancing faintly on her wall.
Come to think of it, he has been distant lately.
Not in an obvious way—but subtly.
A missed message here, a raincheck there.
Like he was pulling back.
Like he already sensed the shift.
"…He seemed to be avoiding me these past few days." she murmured, more to herself than anyone else.
And maybe he was.
Maybe he was giving her space.
Or maybe… maybe he already knew.
A dull ache bloomed in her chest at the thought.
She didn't want to hurt him.
She truly didn't.
Makoto had done nothing wrong—if anything, he had been kind, patient, and unwavering.
He had shown her a version of love that felt safe.
But it wasn't the kind of love that made your heart tremble when he looked at you across a boutique filled with white gowns.
Ayaka sat upright again, pushing her hair back behind her ears.
Her voice was steadier this time, though tinged with something soft and sorrowful.
"Alright. The wedding is happening soon." she said aloud, as if declaring it would make her more certain. "I'll properly turn Makoto down after the wedding. No more dragging this out."
She closed her eyes, her fingers curling slightly around the edge of her blanket.
She had always been the kind of person who put others first, who smiled even when it hurt, who waited patiently for the storm to pass rather than walking into it.
But this time, it was different.
This time, someone was waiting at the center of that storm.
And maybe it wasn't just Akihiko she was being honest with.
Maybe, for once, she needed to be honest with herself, too.
------
The following morning came in soft and gray, as if the sky itself hadn't decided whether to rise or not.
The faint light seeped through the curtains, wrapping the room in a pale hush.
Ayaka stirred, her body tangled in the sheets, her thoughts still clinging to the edges of a dream she couldn't quite remember.
Her eyes fluttered open slowly.
For a few seconds, there was peace. Silence.
A thin, hopeful blankness.
And then her chest tightened.
That familiar heaviness crept in—slow but sure, like a tide coming in before you've noticed your feet are already soaked.
She stayed still, her eyes on the ceiling, willing herself to breathe.
Willing herself to forget yesterday.
But she couldn't.
She pushed herself upright, the sheets slipping off her shoulders.
Her fingers dug into the comforter as if anchoring herself in the present.
But no matter how she tried, her thoughts unraveled, one by one, slipping back into that small boutique, to that sacred, fragile second where their eyes met.
That look on his face—quiet, disarmed, like the world had stopped.
A ping broke through the stillness.
She glanced at her phone on the nightstand.
A message lit up the screen.
Makoto.
Of course.
She hesitated.
They hadn't talked much the past few days.
He had been quieter—less persistent, almost distant.
Maybe he sensed it.
Maybe he felt her slowly pulling away.
Makoto: Morning. I hope today's not too hectic for you. I'll be focusing on my work for now but let's grab some lunch soon, alright?"
Simple.
Casual.
Kind.
And undeserved.
Her fingers hovered over the screen, guilt blooming in her chest.
He didn't deserve to be a placeholder.
He didn't deserve the version of her still stuck in the past, still tethered to someone else.
But now wasn't the time to fix it.
She couldn't do it today.
Not with everything else hanging in the air.
She typed a reply, each word carefully neutral:
Ayaka: Morning! Thanks, I'll let you know my schedule soon."
Her thumb lingered over the send button.
Then—*tap.*
Gone.
And with it, a tiny part of her honesty.
She pulled herself out of bed, moving like a ghost through the morning routine—shuffling to the bathroom, washing the sleep from her face, brushing her hair without really seeing herself in the mirror.
Today wasn't work.
It was just a routine check-up.
A quarterly thing she kept pushing off until Dr. Hasegawa started threatening to file a "Missing Patient" report.
"Today's just a check-up..." she mumbled to her reflection.
"Blood pressure, stress levels, a few lectures about sleep. Nothing more... or maybe I could postpone it?"
But even as she said it, her stomach twisted.
Because it wasn't just about the check-up.
It was where she was going.
Tokyo Medical Center.
His hospital.
Their hospital.
She hadn't seen Akihiko since the boutique.
Hadn't heard from him.
Not even a message.
But she knew him well enough to expect that.
Silence was his specialty—especially when something rattled him.
Especially when it came to her.
She walked into the kitchen and turned on the coffee machine, the familiar scent grounding her slightly.
She poured the dark liquid into her favorite mug—the one Kei gave her after her first solo book signing.
She took a slow sip, letting the warmth spread through her chest.
But even the coffee couldn't ease the growing knot in her stomach.
She was going to see him.
Or at least be in the same space.
The same building.
Breathing the same air.
Would he look at her the same way?
Or would he pretend it never happened?
Would he avoid her?
Or worse—would he act as if nothing had changed?
She set the cup down, staring blankly out the kitchen window.
The city was beginning to stir.
Car horns in the distance.
A dog barking.
The soft rush of wind against the glass.
"Why won't you just say something…" she whispered.
But she already knew the answer.
Akihiko never said anything until it was too late.
And yet…
A part of her still hoped.
Hoped that today might be different.
That maybe—just maybe—he would be waiting.
Or watching.
Or… trying.
She hated that part of herself the most.
The part that still believed in him.
Her phone buzzed again, snapping her out of the spiral.
Dr. Hasegawa: "Don't even think about rescheduling. I've cleared my morning. Be here on time, Ms. Yamamoto. I know where you live."
She cracked a weak smile.
"Dr. Hasegawa is so mean..."
At least someone still treated her like herself.
She moved back to the bedroom and got dressed.
Nothing too formal—just a cardigan over a plain blouse, dark jeans, and low heels.
Something clean.
Simple.
Unremarkable.
She hesitated at her perfume bottle, then left it untouched.
This wasn't a day for perfume.
This wasn't a day to feel like a woman hoping to be noticed.
This was a day to survive.
With her tote bag slung over one shoulder and her phone in hand, Ayaka stepped out of the apartment.
The wind was soft, brushing her hair back like a whisper.
The sky was still an uncertain gray.
Everything in her looked calm on the outside.
But inside…
Inside, she was standing at the edge of something she didn't know how to name.
Something that started yesterday.
Or maybe something that had never really ended at all.