Later that evening, Ruhi stood on the balcony, pretending to scroll through her phone, but mostly listening. Right on cue, the sliding door next to hers opened.
Abhik stepped out, holding a worn manga volume in one hand, spine slightly cracked. His other hand was in his pocket, and he stood there like he was waiting for the night to start saying something worth hearing.
They didn't talk at first. They rarely needed to.
"You always read the same series over and over?" she asked eventually, glancing sideways.
Abhik didn't look up. "It hits different when you already know how it ends."
She smirked. "That's such an old man answer."
He gave a small shrug, eyes scanning the page. "Good stories grow with you."
Ruhi leaned on the railing, elbows resting on cool metal. "Don't you get tired of it all? The loops? Work, life… that same volume of Steel Blade Chronicle every night?"
"It's not the manga I'm reading," he said quietly. "It's the memories wrapped around it."
That made her pause. The way he said it—it wasn't deep for the sake of sounding smart. It was just… honest. Like he carried something quietly, every day.
"You talk like you've lived two lives already."
Abhik finally looked up. His eyes were calm, but far away.
"Maybe I have."
Ruhi laughed to hide the sudden chill that ran through her. "Right. Reincarnated manga protagonist. I should've guessed."
Abhik said nothing. Just turned another page.
And in the silence that followed, she realized something:
She used to think she was the bigger otaku between them.
But maybe Abhik had lived the kind of story she only read about.