The sun had begun to dip below the rust-red rooftops when I stepped back into my house, the familiar creak of the front door echoing in the quiet. The beach trip was over. My parents were still at the Igarashi family outing, a kind of extended dinner-slash-cousin-reunion that Maya had desperately tried to drag me into before Yuuki slipped her arm into mine and I used the excuse of "studying" to escape.
Yuuki had left that morning, hugging me by the gate, whispering something like "I'll miss you already," as if time moved differently when we were apart. Her scent lingered faintly on my shirt. Her warmth still ghosted over my skin. And now that she was gone, the house felt colder than usual.
I dropped my bag by the door and walked into the living room. The lights were off. The sun filtered through the blinds in long amber strips. And on the couch, there she was.
Tiana.
She sat with one leg curled under her, long dark braids falling over her shoulder, eyes locked on the television screen, though it was muted. Her lips held a faint smirk—lazy, like she had just thought of something mischievous and was trying not to laugh about it.
"Oh, hey," she said without turning. "Didn't know you'd be back this soon."
I blinked. "Didn't know you were… here."
She finally turned, eyes trailing over me in a slow, unabashed glance. "Maya invited me over, but she got called to her aunt's house or something. Said I should stay, help myself to the fridge." She stretched her arms above her head in a cat-like arc. "Hope that's cool with you."
I nodded slowly, trying to shrug off the odd feeling sinking into my chest. "Yeah, no big deal."
I moved toward the kitchen, letting the fridge hum and the familiar clink of plates be my anchor. I wasn't sure why I felt off. Maybe it was the silence. Maybe it was how relaxed she looked in my house, barefoot, wearing a tank top and shorts like she belonged here.
Tiana had always been part of the group. Maya's cool friend. The confident one. The one who said what others only thought, who always wore that look of mild amusement like nothing really surprised her.
But tonight—tonight something felt different.
"You've changed, you know," she said suddenly, her voice cutting through the hush like a piano chord in an empty hall.
I paused, holding a carton of juice. "What do you mean?"
She tilted her head, giving me a long, searching look. "You're not… shrinking anymore. You used to always fold in. Like you were apologizing for existing."
I gave a soft, awkward laugh. "That's… oddly specific."
"It's true," she said, and her smile softened. "Now you take up space."
She stood and walked toward me, barefoot steps gentle against the tiles. There was a strange stillness between us, like the air had thickened. I was suddenly aware of how quiet the house was—how empty. And how close she was standing now.
"You look happy, Kaito," she said, her voice lower. "With her."
My throat tightened. "I am."
"I used to think… maybe I had a chance." She leaned against the counter, eyes shimmering beneath the overhead light. "I mean, we talked. We got each other, didn't we?"
"Tiana…"
She held up a hand. "I know. I'm not trying to ruin anything. I just wanted to… I guess I just needed you to know."
The silence that followed was not hostile. It was tender, delicate. Heavy with the weight of things unsaid.
Then she smiled again, that same slow curve of lips that had always held secrets. "You're a good guy, Kaito. Too good sometimes. And if I didn't say this now, I think I'd hate myself for always pretending."
I looked at her—really looked at her. There was no malice. No scheming. Just longing. And a deep, human ache to be seen. Understood.
"I see you, Tiana," I said quietly. "I always have."
She turned her gaze downward, a soft chuckle escaping her throat. "But not like that."
I shook my head gently. "No… not like that."
She took a step forward, and for a moment I thought—no, I *felt*—the pull of closeness. The edge of temptation. The fragile veil between comfort and chaos.
But then she reached out, and instead of leaning in, she tucked a small piece of lint from my shirt and stepped back.
"You've got a good thing, Kaito," she whispered. "Don't mess it up."