One afternoon, feeling overwhelmed by her emotions, Chiaki took her lunch to the rooftop, needing space to breathe. The office had been too much lately—whispers about the new General Manager were still everywhere, and every mention of Hayato's name made her chest tighten. She needed a break from the reminders, a place to clear her head. The rooftop had always been her escape, a quiet spot where she could think.
But as she pushed open the door and stepped into the breeze, she stopped in her tracks. She wasn't alone.
Hayato was there, sitting on a bench near the railing, his eyes fixed on the skyline.
Chiaki's grip tightened around her lunch container, her knuckles white as uncertainty washed over her. Her heart pounded. Should she leave? Pretend she didn't see him and go back downstairs? He had been ignoring her since he came back—not a glance, not a word. He had walked past her like she didn't exist, like everything they'd shared was forgotten.
But now, seeing him sitting there alone, something shifted. There was a quiet sadness in his posture—his shoulders slightly slouched, his face unguarded. It reminded her of the boy she used to know. And despite everything, that small glimpse stirred something deep inside her.
This might be her only chance to talk to him—to finally break the silence that had lasted far too long. The thought scared her, but also gave her a strange sense of hope. Before she could stop herself, her feet moved forward, carrying her toward him.
He must have heard her approaching, because he turned slightly. Their eyes met. For a moment, neither of them spoke. The air between them was heavy with things left unsaid. Chiaki's breath caught, her fingers tightening around her lunch as she searched his face for any sign of the warmth she once knew. But his expression was blank—calm, distant.
Gathering her courage, Chiaki slowly sat beside him, leaving a small space between them. That space said everything. It was a quiet symbol of the years that had passed, the distance that had grown between them.
They sat in silence. The breeze moved gently through their hair, and the soft sounds of the city below filled the quiet, a strange contrast to the tension in the air.
Chiaki's heart pounded. She had imagined this moment so many times, but now that it was real, she felt lost for words. Then, in a quiet, almost shaky voice, she spoke. "Hayato…"
At the sound of his name, Hayato's fingers twitched slightly, and his body tensed. His heart skipped. It had been ten years since he last heard her say his name. Over the years, he had only heard it in his dreams—where she still smiled at him like she used to, and everything was simple, untouched by time or pain.
Hayato's expression hardened, his jaw tightening as he held back his emotions. Without looking at her, he spoke in a cold, distant voice. "This is a workplace," he said sharply. "And I'm your superior now. You shouldn't speak to me so casually."
Chiaki flinched. She hadn't expected kindness, but this coldness still cut deep. His tone, his formality—it was like she was just another employee to him. "…I'm sorry," she said softly, her voice unsteady as she tried to keep her emotions in check.
She barely recognized him. The Hayato she knew had been kind and protective, always by her side, always gentle. What happened to that boy? Where had he gone?
Lowering her eyes, her chest tightened with pain and confusion. Did I really matter so little to him now? The thought echoed in her mind. She wanted to ask—Why did you leave without a word? Why didn't you ever reach out? Did I ever mean anything to you?
But before she could say anything, Hayato stood abruptly, his movements stiff and controlled. Her heart sank. He's leaving… just like that?
He took a step forward, then paused for a brief moment, his back still to her. She couldn't see it, but his hands were clenched into fists, his nails digging into his palms. He could feel her presence beside him—silent, full of questions he wasn't ready to face.
He wanted to say something, something gentle, something honest. But the words wouldn't come. Guilt and hesitation held them back.
Without a word, he walked away, leaving Chiaki alone on the rooftop—surrounded by silence, her heart aching with everything she never got to say.
*****
As soon as Hayato stepped into his office and closed the door, he let out a deep breath, the weight of what had just happened pressing heavily on him. He leaned against the door, rubbing his temples like he could push away the mess of emotions in his head.
Why did he speak to her like that? The question kept repeating in his mind. He could still hear the coldness in his voice, feel the distance he'd created on purpose. Guilt tugged at him, sharp and constant, but he tried to shove it down. He told himself it had to be this way. If he let her in—if he let himself care again—he wasn't sure he'd be able to walk away.
For the past ten years, Hayato had forced himself to move on, pushing away the memories they once shared. He still remembered the moment Chiaki quickly clarified their relationship in front of classmates, as if being linked to him was something she didn't want. Like he didn't matter. Her words had cut him more than he let on, and after that, he convinced himself that leaving wouldn't affect her—that she wouldn't care, and that she'd be fine without him.
But seeing her now… she looked thinner, more fragile than before, and there was a quiet sadness in her eyes that he hadn't noticed until today. That look made his chest tighten, threatening to break the distance he had worked so hard to keep.
Hayato sat at his desk, running a hand through his hair, his mind tangled with thoughts. He wanted to ask how she'd been, to tell her she'd never truly left his mind. But he didn't. He felt he had no right—not after disappearing, not after the cold way he'd treated her earlier.
So he buried the thoughts, locking them away where they couldn't hurt either of them. But even as he tried to focus on his work, her face stayed with him.