Chapter 20

The classroom hummed with a quiet, restless energy this morning. Backpacks rustled as they were adjusted, and scattered voices whispered about weekend plans or last-minute cramming. The scraping of chair legs on the linoleum floor added a metallic rhythm to the mix. I sat by the window, half-listening but mostly somewhere else. My pen tapped absently against the edge of my notebook while my eyes drifted out at the sky. A blanket of gray clouds stretched over the city, moving slow and steady, pushed by the cold winter wind. It felt heavy, like the kind of sky that held onto its silence, waiting for something to break.

I hadn't slept much again last night. The same thoughts that had kept me awake for weeks were still there. Not exactly loud, but persistent enough to cloud my mind.

Sae slid into the seat beside me a few minutes before the bell rang. She glanced over, and for a moment our eyes met. She gave a small nod, like she knew exactly what I was thinking without me having to say it. That tiny gesture did something to calm me down. It was a small anchor in a sea that felt like it was constantly pulling me under.

Tanaka flopped into the chair on my other side with a dramatic sigh. "Another Monday," he said, dropping his bag on the floor. "And exams creeping up like some horror movie villain ready to jump out at us."

I managed a faint smirk. "Don't worry. You can always aim for second-to-last place. Leaves room for growth."

He laughed and grinned. "Harsh, but fair."

Minato arrived just then, juggling a half-eaten convenience store sandwich in one hand and a notebook covered with neat, almost obsessive notes in the other. "You two don't take this seriously enough," he said, raising an eyebrow at us. "These test scores are the gateway to next semester's recommendations. You can't just coast through."

I felt a tightness in my chest and muttered before I could stop myself, "Some of us have more on our mind than test scores."

Minato looked at me carefully but didn't say anything. I wasn't ready to talk about the weight I was carrying. Not yet.

The bell rang, and the teacher started the lesson. My pen kept tapping, but my mind kept slipping away.

Between classes, as we spilled out of the main building, Sae caught up to me. Her pace matched mine without a word.

"Hey," she said quietly. "You looked… somewhere else this morning."

I shrugged. "I was."

"Still thinking about him?" she asked, her voice low enough that only I could hear.

I nodded slowly. "Yeah. I guess I thought facing him would give me closure. But now it feels like I opened a door I can't shut."

We reached the vending machines behind the school and she leaned against the cold brick wall. The chill in the air made me rub my hands together for warmth.

"Closure's not about the other person," Sae said, almost like she was reading my thoughts. "It's about choosing not to carry them in the same way anymore."

I stared down at my hands, folding and unfolding my fingers. "You sound like someone who's been through something."

She smiled softly. "I'm someone who listens."

The vending machine clicked and dropped a warm can of coffee. She handed it to me without waiting for me to ask.

"Thanks," I said quietly, the warmth of the can seeping into my fingers.

"By the way," she teased, tilting her head. "That compliment you gave me the other night? I'm still processing it."

I rolled my eyes, though a small smile tugged at my lips. "You don't let things go, do you?"

"Not when they're rare."

We walked back toward the school, the noise of other students filling the air. By the time the last period ended, the hallway was buzzing with chatter about end-of-semester activities and the approaching winter break.

"Two more weeks," Tanaka groaned as he slung his bag over one shoulder. "Two more weeks and we're free."

"Not really," Minato corrected, thumbing through a printed schedule. "We still have end-of-term essays, student reports, and faculty interviews to survive first."

"Don't ruin it," Tanaka muttered. "Let me have my illusion."

I trailed behind them silently, listening to their voices. The atmosphere on campus had shifted in the last few days. More smiles. Laughter reaching a little louder than before. Plans floated through the halls—ski trips, hot springs, part-time jobs.

For most of them, winter break meant freedom. For me, it only meant more quiet. Too much space to think when all I wanted was to forget.

I glanced up at the clouds again. They were soft and pale, weighed down by the promise of snow that hadn't fallen yet.

Sae walked beside me, quietly sipping a canned cocoa. After a few minutes of silence, she looked over at me.

"Got any plans for the break?" she asked.

I thought about the silence waiting for me at home. The cold apartment. The stiff tension that still hung between my parents and me. The long, lonely nights.

"Not really," I admitted. "You?"

She shrugged and smiled slightly. "Maybe we'll make some."

Her amber-colored hair caught the fading light and flickered like flames. I wanted to say something, but words stuck in my throat. I didn't have to say anything. The way she looked at me said it all.

Something was slowly changing.

That evening, I walked home alone. The cold was sharper now, and I pulled my scarf tighter around my neck. The streets were quiet and glazed with frost that glistened under the streetlights.

I stopped for a moment beneath one of the lamps and looked up at the sky. The clouds were still there, heavy and low.

It was strange. The colder it gets, the more warmth I start to notice.

I thought about Sae's words from earlier. About not carrying the past the same way. About the possibility of making new plans, new moments, even when the weight of everything else felt crushing.

Maybe that's what I needed. Not to forget the past, but to learn how to live with it differently.

The night was still and cold, but I felt something inside me shift. A quiet echo, barely there, but real. A flicker of hope I hadn't dared to hold onto before.

I kept walking.