Chapter 21

The lecture hall felt half-awake. The weak winter sun filtered through the tall windows, casting long, pale shadows across the worn wooden desks. I watched the thin dust motes dancing in the light like tiny ghosts. The heater at the back of the room buzzed in protest, working overtime but failing to keep the cold completely out. Everyone's coats stayed on, scarves wound tight. Even the philosophy professor, who usually spoke with sharp energy, had slowed to a measured, almost sleepy tone as he scribbled final thoughts on the semester's themes across the chalkboard.

Most of the students weren't even pretending to take notes anymore. The rhythmic scratch of pencils had given way to the tapping of fingers on phone screens, whispered side conversations, and the occasional stifled yawn. Everyone was already halfway out the door in their minds, thinking about winter break just days away. Their thoughts drifted toward trains home, plans with friends, or simply the comforting idea of waking up without an alarm.

I sat by the window, silent as always. I wasn't taking notes either. My notebook lay closed on the desk, my pen untouched. But my eyes were watching - the faint trails of chalk dust falling from the professor's hand, the way the pale light flickered weakly on the scuffed floor. I felt it in my bones -the kind of fatigue that sleep couldn't fix. The slow weight that built up over time, settling deep behind my ribs, pressing down with quiet persistence.

From a few rows behind me, I caught the soft sound of Sae's laugh, clear and light, cutting through the classroom haze like wind chimes on a still day. I didn't turn to look, but the sound tugged at something inside me. It was a small reminder that I wasn't entirely alone in this.

Minato leaned over from the adjacent desk, breaking into my thoughts. "You doing anything for the break?" he asked casually, chin resting on one hand.

I shrugged. "Staying here."

He raised an eyebrow. "Alone?"

I gave a one-shouldered shrug. "Better than going home."

He didn't press further. "We're going to see some lights on the 24th. Nothing crazy. You could come."

"I'll think about it."

Minato leaned back, kicking his feet a little under the desk. "Alright. Sae's coming too. And Tanaka, probably."

At the mention of her name again, I didn't react outwardly, but my fingers tightened slightly around the pen I hadn't used once today.

The lecture wrapped up with the professor's short speech. He thanked us for our engagement this semester and urged us to keep reflecting on the questions raised in class. A few students clapped, mostly out of habit. I stood and stretched the stiffness out of my back, waiting for the crowd to thin.

Outside, the sky was turning a dull silver-gray. Students poured out slowly, some stretching their arms overhead, others already calling out dinner plans or texting friends.

I began to walk toward the exit when Sae caught up with me, matching my pace without hesitation.

"You looked like you were on another planet today," she said, her voice soft but teasing.

"Wasn't much to keep me here."

She grinned, shaking her head. "So dramatic. Just a few more days and we're free."

"For some people," I said quietly, not looking at her.

She tilted her head, studying me. "You're not coming to Minato's thing?"

"I said I'd think about it."

"That's Nakamura-speak for 'maybe, but probably no,'" she teased, narrowing her eyes playfully. Then her tone softened. "You should come. It's nice not to be alone sometimes."

I hesitated. The words felt simple, but they touched something I'd been trying to ignore for weeks. I didn't answer right away.

The campus lawn outside was almost empty now. A few students passed by, scarves flapping in the wind like restless flags. From somewhere distant, someone lit a cigarette - the sharp scent cutting through the cold air.

I finally said, "I'll think about it. Seriously."

She gave me a small smile, the kind that held a quiet promise. "I'll take that."

We walked in silence for a few steps.

"Can I ask you something?" she said suddenly.

"Sure."

"Why do you always shut down? Even with me? Like, you'll say something, but it feels like you're holding back… like you don't want me to see the real you."

I looked away, staring down at the frost-covered grass. "I don't know how to be anything else."

Sae stopped, turning to face me. "You don't have to be perfect around me. Or strong. Or whatever you think you're supposed to be."

"Easy to say."

"Maybe. But true."

I swallowed. "Sometimes I feel like if I let go even a little, everything will just fall apart."

"That's what you think. But maybe holding on so tight is what's breaking you."

Her words struck deeper than I expected. I wanted to argue, to push her away with sarcasm or silence, but I didn't.

Instead, I said quietly, "Maybe I don't even know what letting go looks like."

Sae smiled gently. "Then we can figure it out together."

We walked again, the crunch of frost underfoot the only sound between us.

"You know," she said after a moment, "I was really worried after you visited your father."

I kept my gaze forward. "Why?"

"Because you didn't tell me until days later. And when you did, you barely said anything. I was scared you were shutting me out."

"I'm not good at sharing."

She nodded, understanding. "I know. But you don't have to be perfect with me. Not now. Not ever."

We reached the corner of the campus where the vending machines stood against a brick wall. She pressed a button, and a can of warm coffee clanked into the tray. She handed it to me without waiting for me to ask.

"Thanks," I said, fingers brushing hers briefly as I took it.

She gave me a sidelong smile. "You're welcome."

The cold seemed to soften a bit around us, the night pressing in but not quite swallowing.

"I'm scared," I admitted suddenly. "Scared that I'll never stop feeling broken."

"Everyone feels broken sometimes," she said simply. "It's what we do with those cracks that matters."

I looked at her, this girl who somehow made the cold seem a little less sharp. "I don't even know where to start."

"Start small. Start by not being alone."

Her hand brushed against mine again. This time, I didn't pull away.

We stood there for a moment, two quiet figures framed by the glow of the vending machine light and the cold winter night.

When I finally spoke, my voice was low but steadier. "Thank you. For not giving up on me."

She smiled, warmth in her eyes. "I'm not giving up on you."

The air between us felt lighter, as if some of the weight I'd been carrying had shifted just enough to breathe.

As I walked home later, the cold wrapped around me like a second skin. My breath came out in soft clouds that vanished quickly into the night. I pulled my scarf higher against the chill, my footsteps crunching on the frost-covered pavement. The city felt quieter now, the usual hum of life reduced to a low murmur. Lights flickered on in apartment windows as people settled in for the night.

I stopped beneath a streetlamp, its yellow glow casting a small circle of warmth in the dark. Looking up at the heavy clouds again, I thought about how the world felt these days - like the light was dimming but not quite gone. Like I was learning to find the small bits of brightness hiding in the shadows.

Maybe Sae was right. Maybe I didn't have to carry everything inside the same way anymore. Maybe I could let some of it go, or at least set it down for a little while. The past wasn't going anywhere, but maybe how I held it could change.

I wrapped my arms around myself and kept walking, the night cold but not empty. The faint sound of laughter drifted from a nearby cafe, and for the first time in a long while, I felt a flicker of something like hope. Not a blazing fire, but a quiet ember waiting to grow.

As the wind pushed the clouds slowly across the sky, I made a silent promise to try. To keep moving forward, even when the light felt dim.

Because even dim light can still show the way.

Maybe this break won't be as cold as the last one.