The drive home was quiet.
Not the kind of silence that felt awkward or cold—but the kind that hung in the air, thick with everything unspoken.
City lights streamed past the car windows, casting brief flashes of gold and silver across the dashboard.
The gentle hum of the engine and the soft tap of Makoto's fingers against the steering wheel were the only sounds between them.
Ayaka sat in the passenger seat, hands resting on her lap, her fingers loosely intertwined.
Her ball gown pooled around her legs, the soft fabric shimmering faintly in the dim interior light.
The wind tugged gently at the strands of her hair Makoto had tucked behind her ear hours ago—his touch still lingering there like a phantom.
She didn't know what to say.
And for once, Makoto wasn't teasing, wasn't smirking, wasn't filling the silence with charm or chatter.
His profile was calm but alert, eyes focused on the road ahead—though every so often, he stole glances at her, just long enough to check if she was alright.
Ayaka caught one of those glances and gave a small, polite smile.
He cleared his throat. "Tired?"
"A little." she answered quietly. "It's been… a long night."
"Yeah." he murmured, keeping his eyes forward. "One for the books."
She let out a soft, breathy chuckle. "That's terrible wordplay."
Makoto grinned. "I had to try."
Another pause settled in.
Ayaka looked out the window, watching the city blur by.
Her chest felt tight—twisting with guilt, confusion, warmth, and a part of her that hadn't stopped aching in years.
The kiss.
It had felt real.
Too real.
But behind her fluttering heart, there was still that shadow—the memory of someone who had disappeared without a word, whose ghost still lived in the corners of her heart no matter how much she tried to bury him.
Makoto pulled up to her apartment building, the car rolling to a gentle stop.
He turned off the engine but made no move to get out.
The sudden stillness inside the car was louder than before.
Ayaka reached for the door handle, hesitated.
"I meant what I said." Makoto said softly. "I don't expect anything from you… not tonight. Not tomorrow."
She turned to look at him.
His green eyes met hers, open and vulnerable in a way she wasn't used to seeing.
"But I'll wait." he continued. "As long as it takes."
Ayaka swallowed hard. "Makoto…"
"You don't have to say anything." he interrupted gently. "Just… get in, sleep, breathe and if, someday, you find space in your heart again—"
He stopped himself, smiled faintly, then leaned over and opened the passenger door for her.
She stepped out slowly, standing there for a beat longer than she needed to, her gown rustling in the soft breeze.
Her fingers grazed the necklace around her neck—Akihiko's necklace—and her heart twisted painfully.
She glanced back at Makoto.
"…Thank you." she said softly. "For tonight."
His smile was warm but a little sad. "Anytime."
Makoto exhaled slowly.
"…Still worth it." he whispered to himself.
Then, reluctantly, he drove off into the night.
As Ayaka fumbled for her keys at the door, her mind still a haze from the night's storm of emotions, her fingers trembled slightly.
The kiss.
The dance.
The way Makoto had looked at her like she was the only thing in the world that mattered.
It should have made her feel something whole… something complete.
But instead, it left her feeling torn in places she thought had long since healed.
Just as she unlocked the door and reached for the handle, a voice—low, smooth, and achingly familiar—cut through the silence like a blade.
"Is that your boyfriend?"
Ayaka froze.
The key slipped from her grasp and clattered onto the floor.
Her breath hitched as the air around her turned heavy—like the universe itself had paused for this moment.
Slowly, almost mechanically, she turned her head toward the voice.
And there he stood.
Under the glow of the hallway lights, leaning casually against the corridor wall, was a man she'd long tried to erase from her dreams.
Silver hair, tousled and striking under the amber lights.
Eyes—the color of deep winter skies—locked onto her with such intensity she felt her knees buckle beneath her.
It was him.
No doubt.
No illusion.
"...A-Akihiko..."
The name escaped her lips like a breath she'd been holding for years.
Her heart slammed against her ribcage, her body frozen in disbelief as her bag and keys tumbled from her hands and hit the floor with a hollow thud.
He moved toward her.
Each step was measured, almost cautious, but there was a tension in the air that screamed of everything unspoken between them.
Ayaka couldn't move.
She didn't know if she wanted to run or collapse or scream.
But her feet stayed rooted to the ground.
Akihiko came to a stop just inches in front of her.
His expression is unreadable.
Those piercing eyes searched hers, as if trying to memorize the way time had changed her—and yet, she looked just like he remembered.
"W-why are you here…?" Ayaka whispered, but her voice cracked.
Akihiko didn't answer right away. Instead, he leaned in—close, too close—and reached out.
His fingers gently brushed a loose strand of her hair from her cheek, tucking it behind her ear like he used to, back when everything was different.
"You've grown your hair." he murmured.
His voice was quiet, almost tender. But it only fueled the fire rising inside her chest.
Ayaka's breath hitched again, but this time, it wasn't from longing.
It was fury.
The dam broke.
Her hand shot up, shoving his chest with all the strength she had. "You don't get to do that!"
Akihiko looked startled—but Ayaka didn't stop.
"You don't get to come back like this. After three years, you show up at my doorstep and think you can just pick up where we left off?"
Her voice shook, rising with every word. "I waited. I waited like an idiot. Every damn day, I hoped—prayed—that maybe, just maybe, you'd walk through that door again."
Tears welled up in her eyes, but they burned with more rage than grief.
"I mourned you, Akihiko. You didn't even give me goodbye."
He opened his mouth to speak, but she raised a trembling hand, cutting him off. "No. Not now. You don't get to explain this away with a look or a whisper. Not after all the nights I cried myself to sleep, not after wondering if I was just some disposable chapter in your story."
She stepped back, voice cracking as she reached for her door again. "You were gone. And I—I forced myself to move on."
Akihiko's expression darkened, but he stayed silent, watching her like a man drowning in everything he could no longer control.
Ayaka turned the knob with shaking hands, her body trembling with raw emotion.
Her eyes met his one last time.
"You don't get to break my heart twice."
And with that, she slammed the door in his face.
The sound echoed through the hallway like a thunderclap.
Akihiko stood there, unmoving, staring at the door that now separated him from the woman he once thought he was protecting by walking away.
But now he knew—
He had only shattered her.
From the other side, Ayaka leaned against the door, tears streaking down her face, her chest heaving.
Her knees finally gave out as she slid to the floor.
Still leaning against the door, Ayaka could hear the faint echo of retreating footsteps.
And yet, the air inside her apartment felt thick with his presence—like his shadow still clung to the walls, to the memory of his fingers brushing her cheek, to the heat of his breath just inches from hers.
Her chest heaved as she sat there, stunned, eyes burning.
None of it made sense.
Not the timing.
Not his face.
Not the torment in his voice.
And worst of all… not the way her heart had still skipped a beat just from hearing his name fall from her lips again.
But then, something clicked.
He knew where to find her.
Ayaka's heart thudded as her thoughts spiraled. "How did he know I live here?"
Her eyes widened.
"Takeshi."
Without wasting another second, she snatched her phone off the floor where it had landed earlier.
Her fingers fumbled as she brought up his contact.
Her thumb hovered just a second, her mind a chaotic mess of disbelief, suspicion, and betrayal.
Then she pressed *call*
The ringing on the other end only fueled her anxiety, her foot tapping restlessly on the floor as the seconds dragged by.
"Come on, pick up… pick up…" she hissed under her breath.
Finally, he answered. "Ayaka? Is everything okay—?"
"How the hell did he know where I live?" she cut him off, her voice sharp, cracking from the raw emotion she'd held back earlier. "Akihiko was just here, Takeshi! At my doorstep!"
There was a pause. A long, heavy silence.
"…Ayaka, I—"
"You told him, didn't you?" she accused, her voice now was trembling with disbelief. "You gave him my address."
"…I did." Takeshi admitted quietly, the weight of guilt unmistakable in his voice.
"You should have told me!" she shouted, standing up abruptly, pacing in her narrow hallway like a caged animal. "You should have asked me first!"
"I know, and I'm sorry, okay? But he was desperate—he looked like hell. I didn't think he'd come straight to your door like this. I thought I'd have time to explain, to prepare you—"
"Well, you didn't!" she snapped.
Her voice was thick now, tears brimming again in her eyes. "You don't get to prepare me for something like this, Takeshi! He disappeared for three years! He tore my life apart!"
"I know." Takeshi said softly. "I know, Ayaka."
She stopped pacing and gripped the phone tighter, trying to steady her voice. "You said you had something to tell me at the ball. Something important. Was it about him?"
Another pause. Then he sighed.
"Yes."
Ayaka's stomach dropped. Her pulse spiked again. "What is it? Tell me now."
"I think… I think this is something I need to say in person." Takeshi said carefully. "It's not something I want you to hear over the phone."
"I don't care!" she cried out, half pleading, half furious. "I need answers, Takeshi. Not cryptic hints, not protective silences. I'm done being in the dark!"
"I'll come over." he said after a beat. "Give me ten minutes."
She pressed the phone harder against her ear, trying to hold herself together. "You'd better, Takeshi. And you'd better not hold anything back this time."
"I won't." he promised quietly. "Get some water. Try to breathe. I'm on my way."
She hung up.
Her hand lowered slowly, the phone still gripped in her fingers, trembling.
Ayaka stood in the middle of her apartment, disheveled and drained, the taste of the night still thick in her mouth.
Her gaze flicked to the mirror near her hallway—and she barely recognized herself.
Her lipstick was smudged.
Her hair messy from the wind and tears and that kiss in the garden.
Makoto's kiss.
And then there was Akihiko.
His voice.
His presence.
His eyes...
Her stomach twisted.
"Why now?"
As she moved toward the kitchen to pour herself a glass of water, her mind reeled.
Every part of her screamed with questions.
Where has Akihiko been?
Why had he left without a word?
Why did Takeshi help him now—after all this time?
And most of all—
What was the truth she was about to hear?