The doorbell rang, snapping Eadlyn from his unpacking reverie. "I'll get it," he called, curious about his new surroundings.
Opening the door, he paused. A young woman stood there, about 17, with dark hair framing a face that balanced striking beauty with a subtle shyness—her eyes cool, like a character hiding depths behind a composed wall.
She held a notice paper, her gaze flickering with surprise at the tall foreigner.
"Hello," she said, her voice steady but laced with politeness. "I'm Sayaka Eiko, your neighbor. This is a community notice for the Ichijo family—about the meeting."
Eadlyn nodded, taking the paper. Their fingers brushed, sending a brief spark through him. He'd seen enough young love's brutality—friends betrayed by casual flings, emotions discarded like yesterday's trends—to approach connections cautiously.
But maybe, he thought, this is a chance to evolve, to offer empathy instead of distance. "Thanks. I'm Eadlyn Greyson, their grandson."
She chuckled softly, a sound that pierced her cold exterior. "Call me Saya if you want, Mr. Greyson. Miss Eiko feels too stuffy."
Eadlyn's heart skipped—her smile was genuine, disarming. Novels had romanticized such meetings, but reality's heartbreaks had taught him wariness. Still, he wanted to grow, to support real bonds. "Then call me Eadlyn, Saya. Hope we get along well."
"Sure," she replied, a hint of warmth breaking through her shyness. "See you around." As she walked away, Eadlyn lingered, the paper forgotten. She's intriguing, he mused, but I've witnessed how quickly sparks fade. Time to learn better empathy.
Back inside, he handed it over. "Sayaka dropped this off—a notice."
Sakura smiled warmly. "Saya? Such a helpful girl, always checking on us. She's just a year older than you."
Eadlyn's brows lifted. "Older? She carries herself so... assuredly." Reno and Sakura exchanged amused glances, chuckling as they set the table for dinner.
The meal was a spread of homemade delights—sushi rolls, miso soup, grilled fish—that warmed Eadlyn's soul. As they ate, his mind wandered to Saya's brief visit. In his novels, chance encounters sparked epics, but he'd supported friends through love's wreckage—cheating, ghosting, the emotional voids left behind. If I connect, he resolved, I'll do it with support, evolving beyond the pain I've seen.
The conversation turned light, but Eadlyn felt a quiet shift: his aloofness softening, empathy stirring as he listened to his grandparents' enduring tales. Japan was already teaching him—humanity started with opening up, one small interaction at a time.
( Loved that you guys supported me during my hard time- thanks guys,which is why I'll continue to finish this volume within this month)