Misunderstandings!

was stuck between a rock and a hard place, completely lost on what to do. My mind drifted without meaning to, zoning out until Saki nudged me checking if I was still alive. I blinked and gave a weak "yes," assuring her I wasn't dead, just… hollow. The room fell into dead silence neither of us knowing what to say.

Then, in a voice as soft as the wind, Saki finally broke it.

"I know what you're thinking Shikaru," she said ever so gently. "It's alright. Everything will be okay. Just trust the process."

Her words came out of nowhere, catching me completely off guard. I turned to ask her what she meant, but she ignored my question. Without uttering an another word, she slipped through the window like she always did.

Just before disappearing into her room, she paused at her balcony and said, "Shikaru, tell me anything you want. I'm ready to listen."

She closed her window behind her, leaving me alone once again. I sat there, staring into nothing, with an empty mind and a heavier heart.

A few days had passed since then, and nothing had really changed—at least, not at school. But one thing was different: Saki had stopped visiting my house like she used to. And when she did come, she never stayed long. After just a few minutes, she'd get up and leave, as if I'd done something unforgivable.

Then came the weekend. Saki showed up again, just like she always did. But I already knew—somewhere in the back of my mind—that she wouldn't stay. She never did anymore.

And, just as I expected, she stood up after a short while and said quickly, "I'll be going now. See you guys later."

That was the last straw.

"You're not going anywhere, young lady," I snapped, my voice sharper than I intended. "You're going to tell me what's wrong—then you can leave this house.

Saki stood there, frozen, unable to speak. Her eyes met mine, and in them I saw a storm barely held back—a face on the verge of tears.

"I don't want to get in the way of your love for Yasuna," she said, her voice trembling, a broken smile tugging at her lips. "I'd only make things worse if I interfered."

How could she be so immature? I thought. Without a word, I took her hand gently but firmly and led her to one of the chairs near the dining table. I poured her a glass of water, handed it to her, then turned to my parents and asked for some privacy. They quietly retreated to their room, leaving the two of us alone in the soft quiet of the dining room.

"You know how unprofessional this is?" I said with a faint smile, trying to lighten the mood. "Who talks about serious things in a dining room?"

To my relief, it worked. Saki let out a small laugh, her tone softening.

"Yes, it is," she said with a little grin. "But we can't be bothered now, can we? We don't have time for such silly things—we're too busy for that kind of shit."

I looked at her, a slight nod of approval passing between us.

"Now, be calm and tell me what in the world has gotten into you?" I asked, my voice laced with concern as I sank into one of the chairs, hoping she would open up—hoping for some sort of answer.

Saki hesitated, her anxiety almost suffocating the air between us. The tension was unbearable, so I decided to break the silence. I handed her the first cup of tea she was about to brew, silently hoping it would help calm her. She took a small sip, and I could see the tightness in her shoulders ease just a fraction. I quickly began brewing the rest, eager not to make her wait longer than necessary.

As the tea steeped, Saki's voice was barely a whisper, her words fragile and uncertain, "Hey, I'm not getting in your way, right?"

I blinked, confused by her question. It felt like a puzzle I couldn't solve. I stared at her, trying to make sense of her words, but it wasn't until a sudden wave of realization hit me that I understood—was she blaming herself for all of this? Was she thinking that everything had spiraled out of control because of her?

I locked eyes with her, completely forgetting about the tea on the stove. She raised an eyebrow, clearly confused about why I was staring at her like I was. Realizing she had no idea what was going on, I quickly decided to explain myself.

"Listen here, you idiot. Just because I like someone doesn't mean you're intruding. It's actually the opposite—your presence is more than welcome. And if you're wondering how that's possible, well, you should know the answer to that yourself."

She tried hard to suppress a laugh, but it was no use. In the end, she burst out laughing, not caring at all if she was disturbing anyone. I couldn't help but smile. It was good to see her feeling lighter, better than before.

"But Shikaru," she said, her grin widening mischievously, "what if I told you Yasuna was in love with you too? How would you react?"

I broke eye contact and grabbed the nearest knife, and starting to figet with it and told her "Well I wouldn't believe you because she sees me no more than a friend."

She leaned back in her chair, rolling her eyes with a playful smirk. "You're no fun," she said, teasing me. "You could at least use a little imagination." Laughing under my breath, I decided to push the moment further and, without missing a beat, added, "Alright then—how about this? One day, I'd like you to be the mother of my kids."

She jolted upright, bouncing a little too close in her excitement. Her eyes lit up like fireworks. "So I'm going to be an aunt?! Wohhhh! Let's go! That's what I'm talking about!" Her joy was electric, infectious even, and I couldn't help but grin. I quickly hushed her, whispering, "Keep it down or my parents are going to hear us!" She nodded and clamped her hands over her mouth, but I knew she was a ticking time bomb of excitement, barely holding it in. One loud laugh and all our secrets could come tumbling out.

Just then, a loud hiss snapped us back to reality—the tea on the stove! We'd completely forgotten about it, and it was now spilling over, hissing and bubbling all across the counter. I rushed to the stove, fumbling to turn it off before things got worse. "Saki, toss me the cloth—quick!" I said, and without hesitation, she handed it over. I wiped the mess in a frenzy, heart pounding, and just managed to pour the tea into the cups right as we heard footsteps coming down the stairs.

My mom's voice pierced the room. "What happened here? What was all that noise?!"

We somehow got away with it.Just barely.

I quickly poured a cup of tea for both me and Saki, doing my best to hide the puddle we'd wiped off the counter just moments ago. My heart was thudding like crazy, but I tried to sound as casual as possible.

"Nothing, Mum!" I called out, voice steady despite the nerves."Just pouring some tea. I kinda dropped one of the cups—that's what the noise was."

There was a pause.

A heavy one.

I glanced nervously toward the hallway, already imagining a stern look coming around the corner.

But instead, we heard footsteps retreating back upstairs.

"Alright," she said, her voice fading."Just be careful, okay?"

The door clicked softly.She didn't ask any more questions.

I exhaled, slumping down into my chair like I'd just escaped a major heist.My shoulders relaxed for the first time in minutes.

"That… was way too close."

I handed Saki her cup, and we sat quietly for a moment, the steam from the tea swirling between us like the last traces of our near-disaster.

I looked at her with a tired sigh."You really should've paid more attention to the tea. It almost blew our cover."

She shot me a look, her tone instantly biting."Oh, please. It wasn't my fault you've got the spatial awareness of a blind goat."

I choked on my tea."A what now?!"

"A blind goat," she repeated proudly, sipping her tea like she'd just delivered a perfect roast."You walk around like you own the room, but can't even dodge a kettle on the stove."

I shook my head, half-laughing, half-defeated."I swear, your metaphors are getting weirder every time I see you."

"And yet, every time I'm still right," she smirked.

There was something oddly comforting about this—sipping warm tea, exchanging insults like old times, the quiet hum of the evening wrapping around us like a blanket.

For a second, everything felt like it used to.Simple. Familiar. Safe.

I stared down at my cup, the reflection of the kitchen light rippling across the surface.

Saki noticed the shift in my mood."Hey," she said, softer now."I know it's different here. But you're not alone, okay?"

I looked up at her, surprised by the sudden sincerity.

"Thanks," I murmured.Then I smiled."I guess it's not so bad having a blind goat in my corner."

"Damn right it's not," she grinned."Now shut up and drink your tea before you spill it again, genius."

We laughed again.The night was quiet now, and so was the chaos—for a little while, anyway.