The rattling of the subway beneath the city was both familiar and unsettling.
Ryunosuke gripped his sketchbook tightly in his lap, the worn leather cover pressed into his fingers. He stared out the window as the tunnels blurred past, his thoughts drifting.
She's moving in tomorrow.
He repeated it silently. Over and over.
Temporary, but still…
He wasn't sure how he felt about it.
The train screeched to a halt. Ryunosuke stood and wove through the sparse crowd toward the exit. The city felt heavier as he emerged from the underground—rain tapped steadily against the pavement, soft and insistent.
When he stepped through the restaurant's front door, warmth hit him like a wave. Amelia stood at the counter, sleeves rolled up, wiping it down with slow, practiced motions. She glanced up and caught the look on his face.
"Long day?" she asked.
Ryunosuke shrugged off his jacket. "Yeah. Aunt Marisol told me Emily's moving in while she's gone."
Amelia nodded, unbothered. "We talked. It'll be good for both of you."
He hesitated. "About the room—where's she gonna sleep?"
"You're sharing your room," she said without missing a beat.
He blinked. "What? No way. I need my space."
"It's only for a couple of months. She's not a guest; she's family. And the upstairs living room has nowhere near enough space."
"But my stuff—my sketches, my books—everything's in there. I can't just cram it all into a corner."
Amelia exhaled, but her tone stayed calm. "You'll manage. You always do."
Ryunosuke crossed his arms, trying to keep his frustration from surfacing—but it slipped out anyway. "Feels like you just decided without asking me."
"I asked your aunt first. Then I called you." She gave him a pointed look. "You didn't answer."
He looked down. "Because I never answer when I'm sketching."
Amelia stepped closer, her voice softer now. "I know this is a change. But you're not alone, Ryunosuke. You have family here. That includes Emily. We'll make it work."
He met her gaze. In it, he saw more than just tiredness—he saw resolve. That quiet, unwavering strength she always carried when everything else was uncertain.
"Okay," he said, quieter this time. "I'll try."
Amelia smiled gently and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "That's all I ask."
Outside, the rain pressed against the windows—steady and persistent.
A reminder from the city itself:Nothing stays the same for long.