A month passed.
Life continued in its familiar rhythm—long hours, tired evenings, and meals eaten too late. Hiyori thought of him sometimes, but without longing. Just curiosity, faint and unforced.
They met again by coincidence.
It was nearly midnight at a convenience store, fluorescent lights buzzing softly overhead. Hiyori stood in front of the shelves, staring blankly at instant noodles, too exhausted to decide. Overtime had drained her completely.
“Late night too?”
The voice was familiar enough to make her look up.
He stood there, jacket slung loosely over one arm, eyes tired but smiling. His glasses had been replaced, neat and sturdy.
She laughed softly. “Overtime. Again.”
“Same,” he said, holding up a sandwich. “Survival food.”
They ended up sitting outside, plastic stools pulled close together, sharing quiet conversation between bites of late-night snacks. This time, when they parted, neither hesitated.
“May I?” he asked, holding out his phone.
She nodded. “I was hoping you’d ask.”
No one rushed anything after that. Messages were exchanged—nothing urgent, nothing heavy. Just fragments of daily life.
Then fate, apparently unsatisfied with subtlety, intervened again.
The cinema was crowded, the horror film already starting when Hiyori found her seat.
Occupied.
She glanced sideways.
Him.
They stared at each other for a second before laughing under their breath.
Throughout the film, she tried very hard to be brave. She failed spectacularly. At every sudden sound, her hand clenched instinctively onto his coat. He didn’t move away—only glanced down, eyes amused, shoulders shaking slightly with silent laughter.
Afterwards, she admitted defeat. “I don’t know why I do this to myself.”
“I find it admirable,” he said lightly. “Terrifying, but admirable.”
She was still shaken when they stepped outside, and when he offered to walk with her, she accepted without thinking. He brought her to a quiet café nearby, warm lights glowing softly through the windows.
“It’s my sister’s place,” he explained as they went inside.
Cake and hot drinks followed. Her shoulders relaxed. Her fear faded. Conversation flowed naturally—work complaints, small joys, quiet frustrations. It felt easy. Safe.
After that, coincidences became choices.
They met often. Sometimes just to talk. Sometimes to sit in comfortable silence. They grew closer without pressure, without expectations weighing them down.
And then, one evening, he asked her out.
Simply. Clearly.
Hiyori said yes without doubt.
Later, walking home alone, she smiled to herself.
She had once believed that first love was everything—that it was meant to last forever. Now she understood something gentler, something truer.
First love taught her how to feel.
True love met her when she was ready.
And at last, just as she had believed years ago, Hiyori found her other half.
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