Kaori's POV – In the Kitchen.
The faint clatter of dishes broke the soft, fragile quiet of the kitchen, a reminder that the world still moved even when hearts tried to stand still.
I lined the tea cups carefully along the worn wooden counter, letting the simple rhythm of movement anchor me.
It was easier to focus on small things—the smooth glide of porcelain against wood, the faint warmth lingering from the water—than to confront the strange tightness blooming quietly inside my chest.
In the corner, Yuto's aunt hummed a gentle, meandering tune, her voice rising and falling like a memory long ago tucked away into an old photo album.
Every so often, she would glance at me and smile—not the polite kind people reserved for strangers, but something warmer.
Something that said, It's okay. You're welcome here.
The house was like that too.
Old. A little worn around the edges.
But undeniably alive.
