Chiaki's thoughts were cut off by the sudden ring of her desk phone. The sharp sound jolted her, and she glanced at the screen, frowning at the unfamiliar extension before answering.
"Do you have time for dinner tonight?"
The deep, familiar voice made her freeze. Her grip on the phone tightened, and her heart skipped a beat.
It was Hayato.
"Um…" Chiaki hesitated, caught off guard.
"If you need a reason," Hayato added smoothly, his voice calm but with an edge she couldn't quite read, "think of it as a chance to talk about the project I mentioned."
Chiaki swallowed hard, her heart racing. She still wasn't used to this new version of him—suddenly back in her life, familiar but different.
"…Alright," she said quietly, steadying her voice.
"7 p.m. The Italian place a few streets from the office," he said, leaving no room for debate.
"Okay. I'll see you there," she replied, barely above a whisper.
"See you," he said, then hung up.
Chiaki stared at the phone, her thoughts spinning. Had Hayato just asked her out? No—it was about work. It had to be. She repeated the thought, trying to calm the flutter in her chest and the warmth rising to her cheeks.
That evening, Chiaki arrived at the restaurant a little early, nerves getting the best of her. She adjusted her bag, smoothed her dress, and paused at the entrance. Her eyes scanned the softly lit space until they landed on Hayato.
He sat by the window in a sharp black suit, sleeves casually rolled up to his forearms. The warm lighting highlighted the strong lines of his face and the calm focus in his dark eyes. He looked effortlessly handsome—too handsome—and it made Chiaki's chest tighten. Why did he have to look like that? It only made controlling her emotions harder.
She took a deep breath, then walked over, her heels clicking softly on the floor.
"You're early," she said as she sat across from him, her tone light but surprised.
"So are you," Hayato replied with a slight smirk, his gaze steady.
Chiaki looked away quickly, feeling heat rise to her cheeks. She hated how easily he could shake her, how just being near him made all her carefully built walls feel unsteady.
"This is our first time having dinner alone," Chiaki said quietly, the words slipping out before she could stop them.
Hayato raised an eyebrow, his expression shifting as he leaned back slightly. "You're right," he said, his tone calm with a trace of nostalgia. "Back then, Sohei was always around."
Chiaki bit her lip, realizing she had unintentionally brought up the past. The mood grew heavier as old memories resurfaced—of a time when everything was simpler, when they were close without needing to say much.
She hadn't meant to remind him—or herself—of what they once were. But now, it was out there, and the silence between them stretched, full of things left unsaid.
Before she could speak again, the waiter arrived with menus, breaking the tension as he went over the specials. Chiaki turned her focus to the menu, trying to ground herself, but the thought lingered.
"Do you drink? The wine here is supposed to be good," Hayato asked casually, eyes flicking up from the menu to watch her reaction.
Chiaki hesitated, her fingers lightly tracing the edge of her menu. "Maybe just a little," she said softly, uncertain.
After they placed their orders, she could feel his eyes on her—steady and intense. When she finally looked up, he was watching her closely, his expression unreadable but focused.
Her heart skipped. She quickly looked away, flustered.
"W-What is it?" she asked, her voice unsteady under his gaze.
Hayato gave a faint smile, just enough to make her chest flutter. "Nothing," he said smoothly, though something in his tone felt deeper.
Chiaki's face flushed, heat creeping into her ears. She cleared her throat, trying to shift the conversation. "Didn't you say we were here to talk about work?" she asked, her voice steadier, though a bit tense.
Hayato leaned in slightly, resting his elbows on the table, his eyes fixed on her. "I wanted to say how much it would mean if you joined my team for the perfume project," he said, his tone calm but sincere. "I really hope you'll say yes."
Chiaki blinked, surprised by how direct he was. "Why me?" she asked, frowning a little. "There are so many people more qualified."
Hayato didn't look away. "I'm new here. I'd feel more comfortable working with someone familiar. You know what I mean."
Her breath caught. Familiar? After all these years? The word stirred something warm inside her—comforting, and quietly emotional.
"Thanks for still seeing me as a friend," she said softly. "Even after all this time."
For a moment, Hayato's expression shifted—unguarded, almost vulnerable—but it passed quickly, and he gave a small nod.
"I'll join," Chiaki said, her voice steady. "Just for three months and I will leave the company."
Hayato held her gaze, his expression calm. "Thank you. I look forward to working with you."
As the dinner went on, the conversation slowed, and silence settled between them—heavy with things left unsaid. Feeling tense, Chiaki ended up drinking more wine than she meant to. The warmth of the alcohol helped calm her nerves, and before she realized it, she'd finished two glasses. Her head felt light, and her cheeks had turned noticeably pink.
Hayato watched her quietly, a small trace of amusement in his eyes—mixed with something gentler. "Chiaki," he said, half-smiling, "you're tipsy already."
"I'm not drunk," she replied with a frown, though her slightly slurred words gave her away.
Hayato chuckled, low and warm. He couldn't help but notice how flustered she looked—her usual calm slipping away, revealing a softer, more vulnerable side he hadn't seen in years.
After paying the bill, he walked her out of the restaurant, his hand resting lightly on her back. When she stumbled a little, he quickly caught her by the waist, steadying her before she could say anything. The warmth of his touch sent a jolt through her, and though she tried to pull away, his grip stayed firm—just enough to keep her steady.
Chiaki's face burned, and when she glanced up at him, her breath caught at the way he looked at her—intense, unreadable. For a moment, they both stood still, the space between them charged with years of unspoken feelings.
Then Hayato gently led her toward the car, his hand lingering a second longer than necessary. And as they walked, Chiaki's heart raced, her thoughts tangled in emotions she couldn't name.
By the time they reached his car, Chiaki was barely keeping her eyes open. The wine and emotions from the night had caught up with her. Her steps wobbled, and her eyelids drooped as Hayato helped her into the passenger seat, gently buckling her seatbelt.
"Where… are we going?" she mumbled, her voice soft and sluggish. But before he could answer, her eyes closed and she drifted off, her head resting against the seat.
Hayato paused, hand still on the seatbelt as he looked at her. The soft glow from the car lights made her features look calm and vulnerable. "I don't even know where you live now, Chiaki," he muttered, more to himself than to her.
She didn't respond—completely asleep now, breathing steady and peaceful.
After a brief pause, he made a decision. He couldn't leave her alone like this. He'd take her to his place.
When they arrived, he carried her inside with ease, her small frame resting against him. She stirred slightly, her face nuzzling into his chest, her cheek pressed against his shirt. She could hear his heartbeat—steady, comforting—and it made her feel safe despite the haze.
He smelled good. Familiar. A mix of cologne and something that was just… him. The scent pulled memories she had tried to bury straight to the surface.
As he laid her gently on the bed, he slipped off her shoes and tucked a blanket around her with care. Just as he started to pull away, her hand suddenly reached out and grabbed his wrist, firm despite her drowsiness.
"Hayato…" Her voice trembled in the quiet room. "I don't understand."
He froze, tension running through him as he turned to face her. His dark eyes were wide with surprise, but behind them was something deeper—something he couldn't hide.
Chiaki's glassy eyes locked onto his, full of pain and questions she had kept buried for years. "Why did you leave without saying goodbye?" she whispered. "Why didn't you contact me? And why were you so cold when you came back?"
Her voice cracked, emotions spilling out. "When you left… it hurt so much."
Hayato's chest ached, the sound of her words cutting deep. He knelt beside the bed and gently brushed her tears away, his touch full of quiet regret. "I'm sorry, Chiaki," he said softly, his voice low and full of feeling. "Please… don't hate me."
Chiaki shook her head, her hand tightening around his wrist as tears rolled down her cheeks. "I don't hate you," she said, her voice shaking. "I've always blamed myself. I thought maybe I did something wrong. That you were punishing me. Please… forgive me."
Hayato's throat tightened, her words hitting him hard. "You're such a fool," he said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. "If anyone should apologize, it's me."
He gently wiped away her tears, his fingers brushing her cheek with care. Then, without thinking, he leaned in and kissed on her lips. It was soft and slow—just a light touch—but it held years of unsaid feelings and regret.
Chiaki's breath caught, her heart pounding at the warmth of his lips. But before she could respond, sleep took over. Her body relaxed in his arms, and she drifted off.
Hayato stayed there for a moment, brushing a strand of hair from her face as he watched her sleep, his heart full of love and guilt.
"…Goodnight, Chiaki," he whispered and held her to sleep.