Night fell softly over the quiet home, like a dark blanket tucking the world into rest.
Haruto finished dinner with his grandfather—simple food, warm, comforting, filled with the familiar taste of home. The clinking of bowls, the gentle steam rising, and his grandfather's calm presence wrapped the small dining room in a peaceful stillness. They didn't need many words; their shared silence carried years of understanding.
When the meal was done, Haruto helped clear the table, his movements slow and thoughtful. The old wooden floor creaked softly beneath his feet, echoing like memories of childhood.
Outside, the wind brushed against the house, carrying scents of damp earth and distant flowers. Inside, the light from the single lamp glowed faintly, casting long shadows that swayed like quiet companions.
