Tears blurred his vision when his phone vibrated beside him.
A notification.
Yuma reached for it without thinking.
Himari.
She had never stopped messaging him. Even when he did not reply. Even when he left her on read. She was persistent—but never forceful. Patient in a way that did not demand anything in return.
For a moment, a dangerous thought surfaced.
Maybe… they deserved another chance.
He dismissed it immediately.
He had learned his lesson. People tried for a while, then grew tired. Hope was something he could no longer afford. Trust came at too high a cost.
Yet his chest ached.
Right now, he missed the one person who had never left once she stepped into his life.
Without understanding why, his thumb pressed the call button.
The ringing barely lasted.
“Yuma?”
Hearing her voice felt unreal.
“Yuma?” she called again.
He said nothing. Ending the call now would be awkward. Too late.
Himari did not push.
“How are you?” she asked gently. “Are you doing okay?”
Silence.
“How’s work? You’re not overworking yourself, right?”
Still nothing.
“Make sure you eat properly,” she added softly. “Don’t keep relying on convenience store food.”
Yuma listened.
Himari changed topics easily—movies she wanted to watch, a new laptop she bought, small stories about her day, her friends. She filled the space without crowding it, letting him breathe.
Then—
“Yuma,” she said lightly, “when you’re free, let’s go to Sweet Café.”
An invitation.
A shift.
“I heard their chocolate cake is really good. I’ll get the cheesecake, you take the chocolate one. We’ll share. There’s a honey waffle too—we should try it.”
She kept talking about desserts, her voice warm, unhurried.
“Let’s really go,” she said again.
There was a pause.
Then—
“Mmm.”
Himari froze, gripping her phone.
She swallowed her excitement.
“Alright. We’ll set a date later.”
“Mmm.”
“Good night, Yuma.”
“Mmm.”
The call ended.
Yuma stared at the screen.
He told himself he replied because it was her. Because Himari was different.
On the other side of the city, Himari smiled at her phone, relief softening her expression.
“There’s still hope,” she murmured.
Slow. Steady.
That would be enough.
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