Chapter 15
The cough returns.
Not loud.
Not dramatic.
Just persistent.
Ren sits two rows ahead of Emilia, shoulders slightly slouched.
He's still here.
Which means Mina is likely worse.
Because he would only leave school if he absolutely had to.
She tells herself she is observing.
Not worrying.
Observing.
Kaito leans over his desk.
"You look like you lost a duel."
Ren exhales faintly.
"I didn't."
"You look like you did."
Hana glances up from her notes.
"Did Mina sleep?"
Ren hesitates half a second.
"No."
Emilia's pen pauses mid-sentence.
There it is.
The crack.
During break, she approaches casually.
Not urgently.
"Elle va comment ?"
(How is she?)
"Still coughing."
"You stayed up?"
He shrugs lightly.
"Some."
"How much is 'some'?"
He considers.
"Enough."
"That's not an answer."
"It's accurate."
She narrows her eyes.
"You look terrible."
"Thank you."
"It wasn't a compliment."
He almost smiles.
"Noted."
Even tired, he deflects gently.
That steadiness irritates her more than it should.
By lunchtime, the exhaustion is visible.
His movements slower.
His gaze drifting.
His answers delayed by half a beat.
Emilia pretends not to watch.
She fails.
Yui plops down beside her dramatically.
"You are staring again."
"I am not."
"You are."
"I'm observing patterns."
"That is still romantic."
"It's analytical."
"Sure."
Emilia exhales sharply.
Yui grins.
"You could just tell him to go home."
"He won't."
"How do you know?"
"Because he carries things."
Yui tilts her head.
"Ah."
That tone makes Emilia bristle slightly.
"What?"
"That sounds like someone who knows him well."
She doesn't respond.
Because she does.
After school, Ren stays longer than necessary.
He organizes club paperwork.
Finishes assignments.
Answers a teacher's question that could have waited.
Emilia watches from her desk.
Irritated.
He stands slowly.
Almost too slowly.
She walks over before she fully decides to.
"Tu dois rentrer."
(You need to go home.)
"I will."
"You're lying."
He looks at her.
Not defensive.
Just tired.
"I need to finish this."
"It can wait."
He studies her face carefully.
"You're worried."
She crosses her arms.
"I'm practical."
"That's not what I said."
Silence.
She doesn't deny it.
He sighs faintly.
"Five minutes."
"That's what you said yesterday."
"And?"
"You stayed forty."
He blinks.
"You're tracking me."
"Yes."
The word slips out too easily.
He notices.
She notices that he notices.
Internal Emilia:
Retreat.
Retreat immediately.
Instead she adds—
"Parce que tu es imprudent."
(Because you're reckless.)
That sounds better.
Less vulnerable.
He finally packs his bag.
Slowly.
She walks beside him toward the gate.
"Elle mange au moins ?"
(At least is she eating?)
"Yes."
"Tu mens encore."
(You're lying again.)
A faint smile flickers.
"You're dramatic."
"You're impossible."
"That's mutual."
There's the humor again.
Soft.
Automatic.
Even tired, they fall into it.
At the station, they pause.
He looks worse in the evening light.
Paler.
More drawn.
"You should rest tonight," she says quietly.
"I will."
"Promise."
He hesitates.
"...Yes."
She studies him carefully.
He hesitated.
That means he's not sure.
Her chest tightens.
"Tu ne dois pas tout porter."
(You don't have to carry everything.)
He looks at her.
That line again.
He nods once.
"I know."
But she can tell—
He doesn't believe it.
That night, Emilia sits at the dinner table at home.
Her mother is recounting something about a colleague.
Her father laughs lightly.
It's warm.
Comfortable.
Familiar.
She stares at her rice.
Not eating.
"You're quiet," her mother says calmly.
"I'm not."
"You are."
Her father tilts his head.
"Is someone not answering?"
Her hand tightens around her chopsticks.
"I didn't message anyone."
"That wasn't the question," her mother replies gently.
Emilia exhales softly.
"It's nothing."
Her parents exchange a look.
Not intrusive.
Just observant.
"Is he stubborn?" her father asks casually.
She freezes.
"...Maybe."
Her father smiles knowingly.
"Then let him be stubborn."
"That's terrible advice."
"No," he says lightly. "It's patient advice."
She rolls her eyes faintly.
"Tu es impossible," she mutters under her breath.
Her mother smiles.
"French now? That means you're thinking too much."
Emilia freezes again.
She didn't realize she switched languages.
Her parents notice everything.
That unsettles her more than she expected.
Later that night, she stares at her phone.
No message.
She types:
Tu es rentré ?
(Did you get home?)
Deletes it.
Types:
Repose-toi.
(Rest.)
Deletes it.
Locks her screen.
She will not text first again.
She will not.
Her phone lights up.
Her heart jumps.
Message.
From Ren.
Home.
Just one word.
She exhales slowly.
Relief floods too quickly.
She types:
Bien.
That's all.
Short.
Controlled.
She sets the phone down.
But she doesn't sleep easily.
Plans
By the time the last bell rings, Ren looks like he is running on something thinner than energy.
Not dramatic.
Just quiet depletion.
Emilia notices because she has begun cataloguing small details:
The way his shoulders sit lower than usual.
The way he rubs the back of his neck absentmindedly.
The way he blinks a second longer than necessary before answering questions.
She tells herself she is observing.
She is absolutely worrying.
Kaito stretches dramatically near the front of the classroom.
"Study group this weekend."
Hana glances up. "For what?"
"For survival."
"That's not specific."
"It doesn't need to be."
Yui swivels in her chair. "Midterms are in two weeks."
"That's close enough to panic."
Ren exhales faintly. "You're overreacting."
"You look like a Victorian orphan," Kaito says. "You don't get to dismiss panic."
Emilia almost laughs.
Almost.
Ren doesn't deny it.
Which is new.
"Saturday?" Hana suggests.
Ren hesitates.
Emilia sees it instantly.
"You can't," she says before he does.
Everyone looks at her.
She freezes internally.
Abort. Too obvious.
Ren blinks.
"I didn't say that."
"You were about to."
"I was thinking."
"That's the same thing."
Kaito squints at them. "Are we interrupting something?"
"No," they say at the same time.
Kaito grins. "That's worse."
Ren rubs his temple lightly.
"Saturday might be difficult."
"There," Emilia says calmly.
Hana tilts her head. "Because of Mina?"
"Yes."
"Is she still sick?"
"She's better," he says. "Just... clingy."
Emilia softens slightly at that.
Clingy.
Of course.
"She's five," Yui says gently. "That's the job description."
Ren nods once.
"Then Sunday," Kaito declares. "Neutral ground. Library. Four p.m."
Ren hesitates again.
Emilia exhales sharply.
"You're going."
He looks at her.
"Am I?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because you need to leave the house."
Silence.
The others look between them like spectators at a tennis match.
Ren's lips twitch faintly.
"You're ordering me now?"
"Yes."
"Interesting."
"Tu es insupportable."
(You're unbearable.)
He almost smiles.
"That's consistent."
Hana claps her hands once. "Good. Sunday it is."
"And," Kaito adds dramatically, "karaoke next Friday."
Ren blinks slowly. "Why?"
"Because we deserve joy."
"That's vague."
"That's intentional."
Yui leans forward. "You're coming."
Ren hesitates.
Emilia doesn't wait this time.
"Yes, you are."
He studies her carefully.
"Are you deciding for me?"
"Yes."
Silence.
His eyes flicker — not annoyed.
Amused.
"You're very confident."
"You're very tired."
"That's unrelated."
"It's not."
The others exchange glances again.
Hana whispers, "This is fascinating."
As they pack up, Ren sways slightly when standing.
Barely.
Emilia notices.
Of course she does.
"Sit," she says quietly.
"I'm fine."
"You're not."
He steadies himself on the desk.
"I stood too fast."
"That's not reassuring."
"It's physics."
She narrows her eyes.
"You're deflecting."
"You're overanalyzing."
"Tu mens encore."
(You're lying again.)
He pauses.
Just a second too long.
Then—
"Maybe."
The honesty lands heavier this time.
Outside, the air feels cooler than usual.
Ren walks beside her toward the station again.
Quieter today.
Less banter.
More space between sentences.
"Did Mina eat?" she asks softly.
"Yes."
"And you?"
He glances at her.
"Yes."
She studies him.
"You hesitated."
"I was thinking."
"That's not comforting."
A faint, tired laugh escapes him.
"Why are you interrogating me?"
"Because you look like you'll collapse."
"I won't."
"You will."
"You're dramatic."
"You're stubborn."
"That's mutual."
There it is again.
Even exhausted, their rhythm remains.
They pause at the crossing light.
Cars blur past.
The city hums softly.
"You're not coming Friday if you look like this," she says quietly.
"Karaoke?"
"Yes."
"You're banning me?"
"Yes."
He studies her profile carefully.
"You don't like karaoke."
"That's not the point."
"It is."
She exhales.
"I don't want you fainting in front of Kaito."
"That would ruin his evening."
"Exactly."
He almost laughs again.
Almost.
But the sound fades quickly.
When they part ways, she watches him longer than usual.
He doesn't notice this time.
He's too tired.
That unsettles her more than anything.
Sunday arrives faster than she expects.
Study group at the library.
Ren shows up.
Late.
But present.
Emilia exhales in relief she refuses to acknowledge.
He looks better than Friday.
But not steady.
Still thinner in energy.
They sit across from each other at a large wooden table.
Notes spread out.
Pens tapping lightly.
Kaito loudly misinterpreting a formula.
Hana correcting him.
Yui whispering commentary.
Normal.
Almost.
Ren's focus slips once.
Twice.
He blinks heavily.
Emilia slides her notebook slightly toward him.
Without comment.
He glances up.
"You're doing my work now?"
"No."
"You moved it."
"Yes."
"Why?"
"So you don't fall asleep face-first."
He studies her quietly.
"You're intense."
"You're irresponsible."
He smiles faintly.
"You're worried."
She freezes for half a beat.
"I'm practical."
"That's not what I said."
Silence.
He lets it go.
Which is somehow worse.
Midway through the session, Kaito leans back dramatically.
"Break. I'm dying."
"You're not," Hana replies calmly.
"I am emotionally."
Ren leans back slightly too.
Closes his eyes briefly.
Emilia notices immediately.
"Don't sleep."
"I'm not."
"You are."
"I'm blinking."
"That's suspiciously long."
He opens one eye faintly.
"You're monitoring me."
"Yes."
There's no denial this time.
He goes quiet.
Just watches her.
Something shifts in the air.
Not romantic.
Not explosive.
Just aware.
Later, as they pack up, Kaito stretches again.
"Friday karaoke confirmed."
Ren hesitates.
Emilia notices.
Again.
"I'll see how Mina is," he says.
"That's reasonable," Hana nods.
Emilia says nothing.
But something small tightens inside her chest.
He might not come.
And that possibility bothers her more than she expected.
That night, she sits on her bed.
Phone in hand.
Scrolling.
Not reading.
She types:
Tu viens vendredi ?
(Are you coming Friday?)
Deletes it.
She will not ask.
If he wants to come, he will.
If he doesn't, that's fine.
It's fine.
Her phone buzzes.
Message from Ren.
Thanks for today.
She blinks.
For what?
She types:
Pour quoi ?
(For what?)
Reply:
For not letting me drift.
Her breath stills.
She stares at the words.
For not letting me drift.
That's heavier than he realizes.
She types slower now.
Je ne te laisserai pas dériver.
(I won't let you drift.)
She stares at it.
Almost deletes it.
Doesn't.
Sends.
Long pause.
Then—
I know.
Her chest tightens.
She doesn't respond.
Because if she does, she might say too much.