Chapter 103. Where the Storm Led Me

The restaurant was quiet, dimly lit with amber-toned lamps and flickering candles on each table.

A soft classical tune played in the background, and the rain against the tall windows painted a poetic rhythm over the glass.

It was the kind of place that invited deep conversations and lingering silences, where words felt heavier—more honest.

Ayaka sat across from Makoto in a cozy booth by the window.

She hadn't touched her water yet.

Her coat was folded neatly beside her, and she was fidgeting with her napkin, twisting it between her fingers.

Makoto, seated across from her in a navy button-down that made his green eyes even more piercing, studied her with quiet care.

"You've been quiet." he said gently, his voice low and warm, breaking the silence without pressure. "That man... Something happened right?"

Ayaka hesitated.

Then nodded.

Makoto waited, not pushing, simply allowing the moment to come at its own pace.

Ayaka lowered her eyes. "That man outside earlier…" Her voice was barely a whisper. "The one with the umbrella."

Makoto tilted his head slightly, though his expression remained unreadable. "I figured you knew him. You didn't look surprised. Just… shaken."

She nodded again, this time more slowly.

"That was Akihiko."

There was a silence that stretched between them.

The waiter came with their menus, but the tension at the table was thick enough to pause even him.

After placing the menus down, he gave a polite nod and left without a word.

Makoto's fingers gently touched the base of his wine glass. "That Akihiko?"

Ayaka nodded once more, this time meeting his eyes.

Makoto leaned back against the leather booth seat.

His expression didn't change, but his gaze seemed to weigh her carefully—like he was bracing himself for something.

Ayaka swallowed the lump in her throat. "He's back."

"How long have you known?"

"During the Author's Night... After you drove me home." she admitted. "Takeshi told me everything but that's not the whole picture of the story."

Makoto nodded slowly. "And you want to confront him?"

Ayaka shook her head. "No... I'm not ready yet...but he doesn't give up."

Makoto's jaw clenched slightly, just for a second—but then he smiled, soft and bittersweet. "Persistent, isn't he?"

She gave a weak laugh, though her eyes glistened. "Always has been."

There was a pause.

Then Makoto leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, lacing his fingers together. "Can I ask something?"

Ayaka nodded.

"What does being back… mean to you?"

Ayaka looked down again, her heart thundering. "I don't know. Seeing him again… hearing his voice… it just brought everything back. Everything I worked so hard to bury."

Makoto didn't respond right away.

He looked out the window, the candlelight casting golden shadows across his sharp cheekbones and sculpted jaw.

When he turned back to her, his gaze was softer.

"I can take it." he said.

Ayaka blinked. "Take what?"

"The truth. If part of your heart still belongs to him, say it. I'd rather know than be lied to. I'm not going to shatter just because I might not be the first name that comes to your mind when you're alone."

Her throat tightened. "Makoto…"

"But..." he added, voice steady, "I want you to know I'm here. I'm not running. I won't disappear on you. I'm not asking you to erase your past, Ayaka. I'm just asking for a place beside you now."

Her eyes burned, but she blinked the tears back.

"I chose you today." she whispered. "I did."

Makoto reached across the table and gently placed his hand over hers. "I know. And I don't take that lightly."

They stayed like that for a long moment.

Their food arrived—neither of them touched it.

Ayaka finally took a breath.

"Thank you for being honest with me..." she said.

Makoto smiled faintly. "Thank you for not pretending."

And yet…

Even as she sat there, with this warm, beautiful man—her heart still echoed with a voice that wasn't his.

A voice she thought she'd never hear again.

Akihiko…

------

The ride back from the restaurant was mostly quiet.

Ayaka sat in the passenger seat, her hands clasped tightly in her lap.

Streetlights flickered across her face as Makoto drove through the wet, glistening roads.

Rain still drizzled gently, a steady hum on the windshield.

Makoto occasionally glanced her way.

She looked tired.

Emotionally drained.

Her expression gave away the storm she was holding back.

He didn't say anything—just turned up the heater slightly and continued driving.

When they finally pulled up outside Ayaka's apartment building, the glow of the street lamp cut a soft circle around the front steps.

The familiar shape of her front door came into view.

But so did something else.

Someone.

Makoto brought the car to a slow stop.

Ayaka blinked.

Her breath caught.

There, standing at the foot of her building, soaked to the skin, with raindrops clinging to the strands of his silver hair and his white shirt half-translucent from the downpour—was Akihiko.

He wasn't holding an umbrella this time. Just standing there, motionless.

His gaze lifted the moment her car came into view.

Even from inside the vehicle, she could feel the gravity of his presence.

His blue eyes locked on hers through the glass.

Makoto followed her gaze, and his hands slowly clenched around the steering wheel.

"He waited." Makoto murmured, more to himself than to her. "All this time."

Ayaka's heart pounded.

She reached for the handle, but stopped.

Makoto looked at her.

"You don't have to explain." he said, voice even.

"I should talk to him..." She whispered.

"I know." He replied softly.

Ayaka glanced at him, her voice soft. "Makoto…"

He smiled faintly, though there was pain behind it. "I'll give you time but you should hear him out too."

She nodded.

Then slowly stepped out into the cold rain.

Makoto then drove off, with an undeniable ache in his heart.

Each step Ayaka made towards Akihiko made the air feel heavier.

He didn't move.

"Why are you here?" she asked quietly, once she was standing in front of him.

"You already know why." Akihiko said, The voice was low and rough.

Rain trailed down his cheekbones like falling tears. "You didn't let me drive you. You didn't even let me speak. You ran."

"I didn't run." She replied, shaking her head, though her voice trembled. "I chose Makoto."

Akihiko's eyes darkened—not with anger, but with something deeper.

Hurt.

"But you still looked back." he murmured.

Ayaka's breath caught.

Akihiko stepped forward.

Just a little.

"I saw it in your eyes when you got on that bus. When you walked away in the rain. Even now, Ayaka... you're standing in front of me like you don't know whether to scream at me or hold me."

She couldn't deny it.

Couldn't lie.

Not to him.

The rain fell harder, soaking her clothes.

Her hair clung to her face.

"I'm trying to forget you." she said, her voice cracking. "But you keep showing up like a storm I can't shut out."

"If you really want to forget about me then why are you still wearing that necklace." He chuckled leaning closer to her ears.

"I am a storm." Akihiko whispered. "And you've always been the only one who ever stood still in it."

Ayaka closed her eyes.

Two men. Two worlds.

One standing in the warmth, waiting patiently.

The other, drenched in rain, refused to let her go.

Her voice was barely audible.

"I don't know what to do."

Akihiko reached up and gently brushed the wet hair away from her face.

His fingers lingered against her cheek, trembling.

"I'll wait in the rain until you do."

Akihiko's voice was hoarse, drenched with desperation and unwavering resolve.

The rain battered down on him, soaking every inch of his clothes, but he didn't flinch.

He stood there, motionless under the storm like a statue carved from sorrow and stubbornness.

Before Ayaka could utter a single word, Akihiko's knees buckled, and he collapsed against her.

"H-Hey! Akihiko!" she gasped, arms shooting out just in time to catch him.

His weight slumped heavily into her.

She could feel the tremor in his limbs, the way he was burning up despite the coldness of the rain.

"I don't… feel good..." he murmured, the voice barely above a whisper, his breath warm against her neck.

His silver hair clung to his forehead, eyes dazed and unfocused.

He was slipping.

"No! No, no, no—you're not doing this now!" Panic surged through her as she struggled to keep him upright, her fingers clutching the soaked fabric of his coat. "Come on, help me—just until we get to the living room. Please, Akihiko!"

He stirred weakly at the sound of her voice, just enough to half-walk, half-stumble forward as Ayaka dragged her feet beside him.

The pavement was slick, and each step felt like a battle.

The world around them blurred into streaks of silver rain and distant thunder.

By the time they reached the front door, they were both drenched to the bone, water dripping from their hair, their clothes clinging like second skin.

Ayaka fumbled with her keys, her fingers trembling as her soaked bangs clung to her face.

The key finally turned with a desperate click.

She pushed the door open and stumbled inside with him.

"Hold on, just a little more." she whispered, her voice breaking as she guided him to the sofa and gently laid him down.

His body sank into the cushions, far too limp.

"Akihiko?" she called, kneeling beside him, her hands shaking as she cupped his pale face.

She pressed the back of her hand to his forehead—sliding.

"Fever…" she muttered under her breath, eyes wide.

To compare, she quickly pressed her own forehead against his, and the difference was stark.

He was burning up.

"Akihiko!" she cried out again, louder this time, raw panic in her voice.

But his eyes were already slipping shut, lashes fluttering.

His chest rose and fell in shallow breaths, skin pale except for the bright flush across his cheeks.

"Don't you dare collapse on me—Akihiko!"

But it was too late.

He slumped completely, unconscious.

Ayaka froze for a heartbeat, staring at him, rain still dripping from her clothes onto the carpet.

Then she jolted into action, heart hammering.