Miko stared at her phone for the third time that morning, thumb hovering over Reiji's name.
She wanted to message him. Apologize. Or explain. Or just say something that could patch the jagged silence she'd left behind. But every time she tried to type a sentence, it felt wrong. Not enough. Too much.
Hana noticed her fidgeting and looked up from her textbook. "You look like you're waiting for someone to text you. Or trying not to."
Miko smiled weakly. "Both, probably."
"You okay?"
Miko didn't answer right away. "I messed something up. And I don't know if I can fix it."
"Was it work?"
"Sort of," she said, then stood abruptly. "I need some air."
She ended up wandering near the bookstore on campus—the same one where she'd first seen Reiji browsing aimlessly like someone avoiding reality. That memory was oddly sweet. Now, it stung.
Across campus, Reiji was in his dorm, pretending to focus on market data. But every few minutes, his eyes drifted to his phone. No new notifications. Not from her.
He hadn't booked anyone else. Hadn't even opened the app again. It wasn't pride.
It was hope.
And it was dying by the hour.
Kaito, meanwhile, had drafted a message:
KAITO: Hey, I know this is random, but I've been thinking about that volunteer booth. Want to grab lunch sometime soon?
He hadn't sent it. But he saved it.
Three phones. Three names. Three hesitations.
They were circling each other, closer every day.
But still not ready to collide.