At first, Miyu didn't tell anyone.
Not the customers.Not the regulars.Not even the café owner.
Only Haruto knew.
Some mornings, when the nausea hit, Miyu leaned against the counter and closed her eyes for just a second. Haruto noticed everything now. The way her smile softened. The way she touched her stomach unconsciously.
"Sit," he would say gently.
"I'm fine," she'd reply, every time.
But she still sat.
One morning, he brought her a small notebook.
"What's this?" she asked.
"For names," he said. "Or thoughts. Or worries."
She opened it and smiled.
On the first page, he had written:
8:17 – the beginning of us.