Kaori's POV.
There's a particular kind of silence that follows people when they leave—not just the absence of voices or footsteps, but the deeper kind. The kind that lingers in corners and seeps into walls. A silence that feels alive somehow, like a ghost too polite to speak.
It's not empty. It's waiting.
That's what my apartment felt like after we left Yuto's place this morning. Like the air itself hadn't quite settled, like it was still listening for something that would never be said.
Even now, as I make my way home from cram school, the memory trails behind me like a second shadow—soft, persistent, unwelcome.