April 20 – Saturday / Midtown Café, Public Park, and Various Corners of the Day
Midtown Café – Late Morning
The weekend sunlight filtered through the high windows of the Midtown café, casting soft golden lines across the wooden tables and cushioned benches. There was no crowd yet—just the quiet hum of early chatter, distant jazz, and the rich scent of roasted beans.
Jay pushed the door open and stepped inside.
He looked less like the charming class rep and more like a teenager trying to slow down for once—jacket unbuttoned, hair tousled, a hint of sleep still in his eyes.
Emma sat in a corner booth, sipping a matcha latte and highlighting something in a paperback novel. When she saw him, she didn't wave—just tilted her head, inviting him in with a half-smile.
Jay slid into the seat across from her.
"I thought we were studying," he said.
Emma raised her cup. "We are. Studying peace."
Jay blinked.
She sipped. "No books until after lunch. That's the deal."
He raised an eyebrow. "Since when do you break your own rules?"
Emma shrugged. "Since I realized you break mine every week."
Jay laughed under his breath. "Fair."
She set her cup down and leaned her chin on her palm.
"You look better," she said softly. "Less… weight."
Jay met her eyes. "Still there. Just quieter."
They didn't need to talk more.
Not yet.
The Park – Afternoon Sun
Around 1 PM, they left the café and walked toward Capital Park—wide paths shaded by blossoming trees, park benches dotted with couples, and school kids tossing frisbees across the open lawn.
They weren't alone for long.
Tyler waved from a distance, jogging toward them with his usual lopsided grin. Iris trailed behind, trying to keep pace in her slightly-too-large hoodie and mismatched socks.
"Yo!" Tyler grinned. "The genius squad finally escaped the books?"
"Temporarily," Jay said.
"Good," Iris added. "Because I was worried Emma was going to hold the entire library hostage."
Emma rolled her eyes. "I was merciful."
"Mercifully terrifying," Tyler corrected.
The four of them wandered the park paths together—light conversation, playful teasing, the kind of casual warmth that couldn't be forced. It felt like the old days. Before politics. Before disappearances. Before expectations.
Jay hadn't realized how much he missed that feeling.
Until now.
The Sweetest Moment
They stopped near a grassy clearing under a row of Sakura trees just beginning to bloom.
There, sitting with a small picnic basket and a folded cloth laid across her lap—was Amaya.
She wore a soft cream sweater and denim overalls. Her hair was clipped back neatly, and beside her was a box tied with a ribbon that looked handmade.
She looked up when Jay approached.
Her hands tightened on the ribbon.
Jay slowed. "Hey."
"Hi," she said softly.
Tyler and Iris took the cue and wandered off toward a street cart selling ice cream.
Emma lingered, then caught Jay's eye and nodded—giving them space.
Jay crouched beside the bench.
"You made those?"
Amaya opened the box and held it out.
Inside were four small pastry tarts—lightly dusted, slightly uneven in shape, but beautiful.
"From the bakery," she said. "Mom let me use the strawberry cream. It's seasonal."
Jay took one. "You remembered I like strawberries?"
Amaya nodded. "You said it during the first club day. When you picked the wrong pie on purpose because Sofia dared you."
Jay laughed. "That was a disaster."
"You ate the whole thing."
"I didn't want to disappoint the club."
"You didn't," she whispered.
They sat together.
Jay ate slowly.
The filling was sweet. The crust flaked just right.
He looked at her. "You've gotten even better."
Amaya looked down. "I had time."
Jay hesitated.
Then said, "I'm sorry for being distant."
"You were gone," she said gently. "But I waited."
Jay met her eyes. "And now?"
Amaya held his gaze.
"I'm still here."
And somehow—those three words said more than any apology.
A Silent Observer
As they walked toward the bus stop later that evening, Jay paused at a small art stand near the park fountain.
That's where he spotted her.
Yuki.
Not sitting. Not sketching. Just standing near a narrow sculpture of steel branches—watching the way the late sun hit the rippling water.
"Yuki," Jay said.
She turned. Her long black coat drifted slightly in the breeze.
"I didn't expect you here," he added.
"I go where patterns break," she replied simply.
Jay smiled. "And today's a break?"
"You weren't spiralling."
He blinked. "You noticed that?"
"I notice everything."
He raised a brow. "You always sound like you know more than you should."
She tilted her head. "That's the point."
Then—softly—she added, "You're rebalancing. That's good."
Jay didn't reply.
Yuki's eyes flicked over his shoulder. "Amaya seems… lighter today."
"She is," Jay said. "Thanks to you?"
"No," Yuki said. "Thanks to you."
Jay looked at her.
"You always watch my back and let me move freely without any problems, I don't know how I will be able to repay you."
Yuki turned and began walking.
But she called back, "Don't overthink. Some truths reveal themselves only in calm."
And just like that, she disappeared into the city crowd.
The Return Home
Jay stepped into his apartment just after sunset.
The lights of the city blinked on slowly across his window, mirroring the warm glow in his chest.
He set the pastry box on the counter.
Removed the last tart.
And didn't eat it.
He stared at it for a long time.
Because sometimes… healing wasn't about forgetting the cracks.
It was about letting light in between them.