The city blurred past the tinted windows, neon streaks smearing across the glass.
Hana sat beside him, her hand draped casually over his arm as though claiming territory. She was smiling — too wide, too bright. "Well, that was… awkward," she said lightly. "Running into her like that. I do wonder why she insists on clinging to you."
Hayate's gaze stayed on the window. "Perhaps because we shared a storm."
Hana's smile faltered, but only slightly. "Storms end. And when they do, people return to where they belong."
Hayate finally turned, his expression calm, unreadable. "Do they?"
Her grip tightened on his arm, just for a heartbeat. "You can't seriously believe she belongs in your world. She'll drown."
He didn't answer. Silence was sharper than any rebuttal.
When they reached a stoplight, Hana adjusted her coat with icy grace. "You should remember, Hayate, appearances matter. Leaving that scene with me — it said something."
Hayate's voice was quiet, steady. "Appearances are for people who need them."
Hana exhaled sharply, irritation flickering through her perfect mask.
From the driver's seat, Kazehiro caught Hayate's gaze in the rearview mirror. He didn't speak — he didn't have to. His faint, knowing smirk said it all: Your silence was louder than her words.
Hayate leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes. Rin's face lingered behind his eyelids — the way her breath had caught when she saw him, the fire in her voice when she'd stood up to Hana.
Not yet, he thought. But soon.
That night, Rin paced her room like a caged animal, phone clutched to her ear.
"Mai, she just—she literally swooped in like some villain in a drama!" Rin burst out. "One second I was talking to him, and then bam — Hana with her perfect hair and her perfect coat and her perfect—ugh!"
On the other end, Mai snorted. "You sound like you want to strangle her with her own designer scarf."
"I do!" Rin flopped onto her bed, burying her face in a pillow. Her voice was muffled but fierce. "She didn't even hesitate. Just latched onto his arm like—like a barnacle!"
Mai laughed so hard Rin could hear her wheezing. "Hayate's the ship, Hana's the barnacle. Got it."
Rin groaned. "This isn't funny!"
"It's hilarious," Mai corrected. "I wish I'd been there. I would've thrown popcorn at her."
Rin rolled onto her back, staring at the ceiling. "You don't get it. He looked at me, Mai. Like really looked at me. And then she just—she just stole it. Stole the moment. And I…" Her throat tightened. "I let her."
The line was quiet for a moment. Then Mai's voice softened. "Rin."
Rin blinked back sudden tears. "I hate this. I hate that I can manage living on a island, but one woman with a perfect smile makes me feel like I'm nothing."
Mai's voice grew firm. "You're not nothing. You're Rin Nishina. You survived on island with a hermit, remember? You cooked rice until it wasn't charcoal, you made gardens out of dirt, you yelled at billionaires like they were misbehaving kids. Hana doesn't get to erase that."
Rin bit her lip. "Then why do I feel like she already has?"
"Because," Mai said dryly, "you're in love with him, and love makes you stupid."
Rin sat bolt upright. "I—what—I am not—"
"Oh please," Mai groaned. "You just spent ten minutes ranting about Hana stealing your boyfriend."
"He's not my boyfriend!" Rin squeaked, cheeks burning.
Mai's laughter filled the line. "Yet."
Rin threw the pillow across the room, her chest aching. "I don't even know what I want. Every time I try to say it, the words get stuck. And then he just… looks at me like he already knows. And it's—" She broke off, her voice cracking. "It's terrifying."
Mai was quiet for a moment. Then, softly: "It's okay to be terrified. Love's supposed to be scary. It means it's real."
Rin pressed her hand against her eyes, a laugh breaking through her tears. "Why are you always right?"
"I'm not," Mai said cheerfully. "I just have the privilege of watching you flail like a rom-com heroine, and it's endlessly entertaining."
Rin laughed, even as her cheeks stayed wet. "You're awful."
"And you love me."
Rin sighed, smiling despite herself. "Yeah. I do."
After they hung up, Rin lay in bed, her phone still clutched to her chest.
Outside her window, the city buzzed, alive and indifferent. But inside her heart, something had shifted — still stormy, still unresolved, but lighter.
Because even if Hana had stolen the moment, even if fear still chained her words, Rin knew one thing for certain.
Hayate had looked at her. Not through her, not past her. At her.
And no amount of Hana's interruptions could erase that truth.