The morning after their meeting at the Takahashi estate, Hana walked across campus with a heaviness she couldn't quite shake. It wasn't just exhaustion, though her sleepless night had left shadows under her eyes. It was the memory of polished wood, sharp words, and the unyielding gaze of Ren's father.
Though neither parent had forbidden the relationship outright, their silence had carried its own warning. They hadn't accepted her—they had only tolerated her presence, weighing her sincerity against the weight of the Takahashi name.
And now, as Hana moved through the familiar halls of campus, she felt it: the shift. Students didn't just whisper anymore. They watched.
---
At first, she thought it was her imagination. But when she entered her art class, she saw the empty seat beside hers. Yui, who always saved a place for her, glanced apologetically from across the room, her desk already full of sketchbooks and supplies.
Hana slid into her usual spot, the silence around her deafening. Even Professor Sato, normally warm, gave her a measured look before starting the lecture.
When class ended, Hana gathered her things quickly, but a voice stopped her at the door.
"Be careful," whispered one of the senior students, her tone sharp with warning. "You don't know what families like his can do."
Hana's breath caught. "What do you mean?"
The girl shook her head, as though pitying her, then walked away without another word.
---
That afternoon, Ren found her sitting beneath the cherry trees, sketchbook unopened in her lap. Though many blossoms had fallen by now, their pink remnants still clung stubbornly to branches, bright against the fading season.
"Talk to me," he said gently, sitting beside her.
She hesitated, then told him about the shift in class, about the senior's warning.
Ren's jaw tightened. "It's starting sooner than I thought."
"What is?"
"My father's way of testing us. He won't forbid me outright—not yet. That would make me rebel harder. But he can… influence. Quietly. Professors. Students. Opportunities."
Hana's stomach turned. "He would go that far?"
Ren nodded grimly. "He calls it protection. I call it control."
Hana closed her sketchbook, pressing it against her chest like a shield. "And what about you? Will it cost you, too?"
Ren looked at her, eyes steady. "If it does, it will be worth it."
Her throat tightened. "I don't want to ruin your future, Ren."
"You won't," he said firmly. "My future is mine to choose. And I choose this. I choose you."
---
Despite his words, the shadows grew.
Two days later, Ren received an email from the university's administration. His photography submission for an upcoming intercollegiate showcase had been "re-evaluated." Despite being praised earlier for its originality and craft, it was suddenly deemed "inappropriate for representation."
Ren showed Hana the email on his phone, his expression calm but his grip tight. "This is my father's work. He has ties here. He's pulling strings."
Hana's chest ached. "Can we fight it?"
Ren shook his head. "Not directly. If I protest, they'll accuse me of being ungrateful or reckless. If I stay silent, they'll think I've accepted it. Either way, it's their game."
Hana reached for his hand, squeezing it tightly. "Then we'll find another way. If they take away your gallery, we'll make our own."
Ren's gaze softened, the storm in his eyes easing for a moment. "You always find light where I see only walls."
---
That weekend, Hana invited Ren to her small apartment. It was the first time he had stepped into her personal space, and though it was modest—narrow rooms filled with sketchbooks, stacks of pencils, and the faint scent of fresh paint—it felt sacred to her.
He moved carefully through the room, pausing at her desk where unfinished sketches lay scattered. His fingers brushed lightly over a drawing of the grove where they had shared their picnic weeks ago.
"You've been drawing this place a lot," he murmured.
"It feels safe," she admitted. "Like the world can't touch us there."
Ren turned to her, something unreadable flickering in his gaze. "Maybe we need more of those places. More sanctuaries. If my family wants to close doors, we'll build our own rooms."
Hana smiled faintly, her heart easing. "Then this is one of them. My room. My space. Our sanctuary."
For a while, they sat on the floor, her sketchbook open, his camera set aside. She sketched his profile as he leaned back against her bed, the shadows of the setting sun stretching across his face. He didn't pose, didn't hide. He simply existed, raw and unguarded.
And in that small, ordinary moment, Hana felt something unshakable grow between them.
---
But outside their sanctuary, the storm brewed stronger.
On Monday, a new rumor swept through campus:
**Ren's family is already arranging a proper match.**
**She's just a phase.**
**It's only a matter of time.**
Yui cornered Hana in the cafeteria, worry etched in her face. "You can't ignore this anymore. They're not just talking about you—they're talking about his future. And people believe it."
Hana's fingers tightened around her tea cup. "Do you believe it?"
Yui hesitated, then shook her head. "I believe in you. But belief isn't always enough when the world wants something else."
---
That night, Hana walked home alone, her thoughts a storm. She wanted to be strong, to hold onto Ren's promise. But the whispers pressed in, louder than ever.
When she reached her apartment, she found Ren already waiting, leaning against the wall by her door. His blazer was gone, his shirt sleeves rolled up, his expression tired but steady.
"I thought you might need me," he said simply.
Hana's throat tightened. She stepped into his arms, burying her face against his chest. "They're saying things I can't fight. Things I can't even prove wrong."
Ren's arms wrapped around her, firm and protective. "Then don't fight them. Just hold on to me."
She clung to him, tears slipping silently down her cheeks. For in that moment, beneath the shadows of whispers and family influence, the only truth that mattered was the one they carried together.
---
But somewhere, in the quiet halls of the Takahashi estate, decisions were being made. And Hana knew—though she didn't yet see them—that the storm had only just begun.