Miko stood frozen in the café after Reiji left, her hand still half-reached across the table. Her breath caught in her throat, the air suddenly too heavy to breathe.
She'd seen the pain flash in his eyes. Not anger. Not frustration. Just hurt. Quiet, disappointed hurt—the kind that didn't lash out, just withdrew. And that was worse.
She sat back down, slowly, staring into her untouched drink. Her fingers curled around the cup like it might ground her, but her chest was unsteady.
What was she doing?
She told herself from the beginning: no attachments. No exceptions. This was a job. She played the part, wore the smiles, gave kindness in careful doses.
But Reiji had slipped past that armor.
It started as curiosity. Then comfort. Then longing.
And now guilt.
She thought back to his voice, the way he'd asked if she wanted to stop seeing him. How he hadn't even accused her. He'd just offered her an out. Like he expected to be left behind.
And what did she do? She hid behind protocol. "You're not my only client." The words made her stomach churn now.
She'd said it to protect herself. But all it had done was cut him deeper.
Her phone buzzed.
KAITO: Still up for coffee later this week? :)
She stared at it. Closed the message without replying.
Then opened her gallery.
There, among selfies and street photos, was a blurry shot Reiji had taken of her sipping that chaotic melon soda, mid-laugh. She hadn't even realized he'd captured it. She looked—unarmored.
Real.
Miko pressed her forehead against the table.
She wasn't supposed to fall. Not for anyone.
But she was already falling.
And she had no idea how to stop.