YURI KOI
We stepped inside, and I turned to him.
"Okay… please give me a second to change."
I hurried upstairs, closing my bedroom door behind me. My heart was pounding. My mind kept replaying everything that had just happened—the way he carried me, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Embarrassment burned my cheeks. I stood in front of the mirror and whispered to myself, "You have the confidence. So use it."
I opened my closet and pulled out a purple hoodie and the soft pants from my pajamas. Simple, comfortable. So different from the black dress I'd just taken off. I stared at the dress for a long moment. It was elegant… beautiful even. But it didn't feel like me. Not anymore. I hadn't worn something like that since high school—and tonight wasn't the night to start again.
I sat on my bed and checked my leg. The pain had dulled. I peeled off the patch, letting the air touch my skin. My thoughts drifted again—to him.
The way he'd lifted me without hesitation. His arms firm, steady. My head against his chest… his heartbeat thundering in my ear, his breath warm and steady. His hands holding me securely—one at my shoulder, the other beneath my knees.
Just remembering it made my face flush red in the mirror. I looked like a tomato. Gathering what courage I had left, I went downstairs.
And then—something unexpected.
Sai sat comfortably, stroking my cat, who was sprawled across his lap like they'd known each other for years. The sight made me smile despite myself.
"I see you've made a new friend, Sai."
The cat perked up at my voice, then leapt from Sai's lap straight into my arms. I chuckled softly, petting his fur.
"It's strange, you know," I said, cradling him.
"Why's that?" Sai asked, curious.
"Because he never warms up to strangers. Not this quickly."
Sai tilted his head. "To be honest, at first he didn't want me to pet him. But then… it was like he changed his mind."
I nodded, brushing the cat's head. "Yes… he. He's a boy."
Sai smiled faintly. "A lazy one, I bet?"
"Yes, very lazy," I admitted with a small laugh.
Sai leaned back, watching the cat. His expression softened, but there was something sad in his tone when he said, "You know… the more I watch him, the more he reminds me of myself."
"Really?" I asked, intrigued.
"Yes. For sure. The first thing we have in common—" He gave a weak smile. "We both like to be coddled."
I could hear the sadness behind his words. My heart squeezed.
Before he could say more, I walked over and gently placed my cat back in his lap. Without speaking, I lowered myself to one knee beside him.
He looked confused, tilting his head as if to ask what I was doing. I didn't explain. Instead, I slipped one hand behind his back, the other into his hair, and began to gently stroke, comforting him like I had just done with my cat.
For a moment, he didn't move. He just sat there—still, quiet—until finally, I saw his arms relax, and his hands began to lightly pet the cat as well.
Warmth spread between us. The room felt smaller, softer. My cat purred at our feet, curling against our legs.
Then, almost without thinking, Sai reached up, grabbed my hand, and held it tight. I froze, startled by his strength.
Before I could say anything, he stood abruptly and pulled me into his arms, wrapping his hands firmly around my waist.
I gasped softly, caught off guard. But then… my body moved on its own. I wrapped my arms around him in return.
Time blurred. His embrace grew warmer and warmer, wrapping me in a comfort I hadn't realized I'd been craving. If we had been lying down, I could have fallen asleep like that, safe in his arms.
I began patting his back gently, and he mirrored me, his touch careful, tender. My cat circled at our feet, brushing against us, as if trying to be part of the embrace.
Then—at the exact same moment—we both stopped patting each other, frozen in silence.
That's when it broke. His body trembled, and I heard his voice crack.
"I'm sorry… I'm so sorry…" he whispered, his words shaking with spasms of grief.
I tightened my hold, whispering back, "It's fine. That's why I'm here."
And in that moment, I realized something. No matter how much he had grown, no matter the weight he carried, deep down—he was still the same little boy I had once known.
Relief washed over me. He wasn't lost.
As his breathing steadied, he finally managed to murmur a single phrase, raw and fragile.
"Thank you… thank you so much."