Miko was back at the same vending machine, half-hoping history would repeat itself.
It didn't.
No text. No Reiji. Just her, a lukewarm can of tea, and the weight of what she hadn't said. She scrolled up through their old messages, re-reading them as if they were a lifeline.
Across campus, Reiji stood at the threshold of the music practice rooms. Empty. Echoey. He didn't even know why he'd come. Maybe because this was where he used to feel something. Peace. Rhythm.
Now everything felt off-beat.
Kaito finally hit send.
KAITO: Lunch? Just you and me. No pressure.
The message was out. Sent. Delivered. And now he waited.
Miko saw it. Her breath caught. Timing, always the enemy.
She didn't reply immediately. Instead, she went home. She needed to talk to someone who wasn't tangled in this.
"Hana," she said that night, "What would you do if two people mattered, but only one made you feel like you could finally breathe?"
Hana looked up. "Then that's your answer."
"But what if choosing that one… means hurting the other?"
Hana closed her book. "Then be honest. Before someone makes the choice for you."
The next morning, Miko pulled out her phone.
And this time, she messaged first.
MIKO: Can we talk? No role-playing. Just you and me.
She stared at the screen until the typing bubble appeared.
REIJI: Where?
MIKO: The café. No more bookings. Just coffee.