Namalll3

Haruka ran away from home after one sentence destroyed all her self-esteem. Failing to get into her dream university, her father decided: she was no longer a child worthy of pride.

Without a direction, Haruka disappeared into a small town and lived as a hikikomori. Her days were spent in silence, only opening the door for food delivered via an app. Until a food delivery person kept coming, with sticky notes full of absurd comments and inexplicable little attentions.

Kaito never forced her. But he was always there. Sometimes, just to say, "If you like sweets, tomorrow I'll bring melon bread from my grandmother's shop."

When Haruka ran out of money and the last order couldn't be paid, Kaito didn't get angry. Instead, he offered a solution: work for a while at her grandmother's bakery—just until Haruka could pay off her debt.

But the outside world that had always felt scary slowly changed.

And Haruka began to wonder...

Why did someone she didn't know make her feel more seen than her own family?

And why... did Kaito's gaze seem like she had met him before—in a past she had long buried?

Things He Never Says

The next day, the sky was cloudy, but not unpleasant. A gust swept by the alley as the sun dipped low behind the roofs, casting long yellow shadows across the little town. Haruka sat outside the bakery on the bench, her bag wedged beside her feet, the hem of her skirt flapping in the wind. She waited longer than she meant to—but today, she didn't care.

It wasn't an obligation or routine that made her stay. It was something smaller. Quieter. A pull in her chest, she didn't know how to name.

The bell above the bakery door chimed. Kaito stepped out, locking up with one hand, his apron slung over his shoulder. He turned and paused mid-step when he saw her.

"You're still here," he said, not hiding his surprise.

Haruka stood up, brushing her palms on her skirt. She wasn't sure what expression she wore—maybe nervousness. Maybe something else.

"I wanted to say. thank you. For last night. The cocoa," she added, feeling suddenly awkward.

Kaito blinked, then smiled, slowly. "You waited just to say that?"

She nodded, looking down briefly. "I've never really waited for someone before. It's not something I. do."

Kaito rested his head against the pillar. "Then I'm privileged to be the first."

They started out, no place in mind, only steps that came naturally. The town was quiet during dusk hours, and the cicadas' noise had softened with the cooling breeze.

"Today was weird," Haruka breathed. "But not unpleasantly so."

She regarded him. "Maybe. Or maybe because. I didn't have to disappear after work. Like I could just stay."

Kaito said nothing for a time. Then, without glancing at her, he said, "You may stay. If you want."

They stopped beside a low wall overlooking the hills beyond town. The sky had turned purple and orange-edged now, like a work of art.

Haruka leaned against the wall, pulling her cardigan tighter around herself. "When I left home, I thought being alone would be safer. I didn't want anyone to look too hard. But lately. I don't feel so invisible."

Kaito leaned against her, their shoulders brushing together. "Maybe you never were. Maybe it just took the right people looking."

She didn't answer initially. Then, quietly, she said, "That's the scariest part. Knowing you have to be seen."

The wind picked up, on its breeze the scent of just-baked items carried over from the bakery.

Kaito pulled from the back pocket of his jeans a crumpled sticky note and handed it to her.

"You waited. You waited. That's enough for today."

Her gaze lingered on the sentences, her fingers slowly tightening around the paper. This one, as well, she folded meticulously and pocketed.

And as they strolled together under the ascending stars, Haruka felt something unfamiliar but nice fall into her chest: the quiet contentment of not having to go home quite yet. The quiet comfort of choosing to remain.

The Moment I Wanted to Stay