The afternoon sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the pavement as Ayaka walked out of the hospital.
The faint scent of antiseptic still clung to her clothes, but she barely noticed.
Her footsteps felt mechanical, almost detached, as she made her way down the familiar path leading toward the bus stop just outside the hospital grounds.
Each step seemed to echo louder in her ears, the weight in her chest growing heavier with every stride.
She reached the empty bench and sat down slowly, her hands folding tightly in her lap as she stared at the road ahead.
The world moved around her—doctors coming off shift, patients leaving, nurses chatting by the entrance—but Ayaka felt like she was trapped behind a sheet of glass, unable to connect with any of it.
Her thoughts kept circling back, unwilling to let her go.
"You're my colleague's precious sister. Why else would I bother being kind?"
The words from earlier kept replaying, cold and impersonal, slicing deeper every time they surfaced.
"So that's all it was..." she whispered, her voice barely carrying in the breeze. "Because I'm Kei's sister."
Her fingers curled around the fabric of her coat as if bracing herself against the sharp ache inside her chest.
She tried to laugh it off—tried to pretend it didn't matter—but the sound that escaped her was brittle, strained.
"This kinda sucks..." she murmured, forcing a small, bitter smile. "Good thing I didn't confess, huh?"
But even as she spoke, she felt the sting behind her eyes.
Her throat tightened, her breath hitching uncontrollably as hot tears began to spill down her cheeks, one after another.
She quickly wiped at them with the back of her hand, frustrated with herself. "Pathetic. I must look pathetic right now…" she mumbled, letting out another shaky laugh that only seemed to make the tears fall faster.
The sound of the approaching bus stirred her slightly.
She sniffed, hastily brushing the last of her tears away before standing up and stepping onto the bus.
Sliding into a seat by the window, she leaned her forehead against the cool glass, willing herself to hold it together.
The bus engine rumbled to life, pulling away from the curb, and Ayaka's gaze remained unfocused, lost in the blur of movement outside.
She didn't see him.
She didn't see the figure that had broken into a run the moment she walked out of sight, weaving urgently through the hospital crowd, eyes scanning desperately for her familiar silhouette.
Akihiko's chest rose and fell sharply as he reached the bus stop—just in time to see the doors close and the bus pulled away from the curb.
His expression remained unreadable, but his clenched fists betrayed the storm brewing beneath.
His silver hair glinted under the afternoon sun, but there was nothing cool or detached about the way his jaw tightened, his gaze fixed on the retreating bus.
Too late.
The bus disappeared down the street, taking her further away with every second, and all he could do was stand there—helpless, the words he couldn't bring himself to say caught like thorns in his throat.
------
Akihiko stood frozen at the bus stop, sharp afternoon sunlight casting long shadows at his feet.
The usual hum of life behind him—the chatter of nurses, the distant beep of monitors, the soft shuffle of patients—felt like it came from underwater, muffled beneath the pounding in his ears.
His breath came sharp, uneven, like he'd just run a marathon but couldn't catch air no matter how hard he tried.
Eyes fixed on the road, he watched helplessly as the bus grew smaller, shrinking into the horizon until it vanished entirely.
Gone.
She was gone.
A muscle in his jaw twitched. He dragged a hand through his silver hair, fingers knotting at the nape of his neck before dropping uselessly to his side.
Frustration simmered beneath his skin, hot and restless, coiling tighter with every passing second.
Why had he hesitated?
Why the hell hadn't he stopped her?
The memory of her earlier—standing there, so still, her expression calm yet brittle, her eyes not quite meeting his—burned itself into his mind.
She had looked fragile in a way he hadn't wanted to admit. Like she was trying too hard to pretend everything was fine.
He should've said something.
Done something.
Anything.
Instead, he just stood there like a goddamn idiot, watching her turn away, watching her walk out of reach without a word.
And now the weight in his chest gnawed sharper, hollow, like something vital had slipped through his fingers before he even realized he was holding it.
Akihiko let out a long, slow breath, fists tightening at his sides before he shoved them deep into his coat pockets.
His gaze remained locked on the empty stretch of road where the bus had disappeared, his heartbeat refusing to settle.
This wasn't how it was supposed to be.
He had kept his distance for a reason. He had drawn lines, built walls, maintained control because that's how he operated—always cool, always calculated.
She wasn't supposed to matter this much.
But why, then, did it feel like something inside him was cracking open?
A soft chime pulled him out of the spiral.
His phone buzzed.
Pulling it out, he glanced down at the screen, eyes narrowing as Kei's name lit up.
"Dr. Nakamura, thank you for taking care of Ayaka. I just wanted to let you know I'll be back this afternoon. Ayaka also called and mentioned she's going to stay with a friend for a while. You can focus on your work now. We really appreciate your help."
For a long moment, Akihiko stared at the message, jaw clenched tight.
Stay with a friend.
Focus on your work.
It was polite. Simple. Distant.
Exactly how things should be.
So why did the words feel like salt ground into an open wound?
His grip on the phone tightened, the lines of his face hardening.
Every carefully constructed barrier he'd put up felt like it was closing in, suffocating.
'What the hell am I doing?...'
This wasn't him. He didn't chase after people.
Didn't falter like this. He had promised himself he wouldn't cross that line—not with her. Not with Kei's sister.
But the image of her—turning away, shrinking into herself, wiping at her eyes when she thought no one noticed—kept looping in his mind like a goddamn broken record.
And suddenly, the hospital behind him felt too loud, too cold. Like none of it mattered anymore.
With a sharp breath, Akihiko finally tore his gaze away, shoving the phone back into his pocket as he turned and walked back toward the hospital.
His footsteps echoed in the pristine hallways, outwardly calm, deliberate.
But inside, his chest felt tight, his pulse thrumming unevenly.
No matter how far he walked, how many sterile corridors he passed, the feeling wouldn't leave—the sinking sensation that something important had slipped past him, and he hadn't done a damn thing to stop it.
It left a bitter taste at the back of his throat, unfamiliar and unwelcome.
Because she wasn't supposed to matter.
Not like this.
His hand curled tightly into a fist as the thought sank deeper, heavier.
And yet, she did.
------
Ayaka let out a shaky breath as she closed her apartment door behind her, the click of the lock sounding louder than usual in the silence.
She stood there for a long moment, keys still clenched tightly in her hand, staring blankly at the familiar space around her.
Everything looked the same—her neatly arranged bookshelves, the faint afternoon light spilling across the wooden floor—but nothing felt the same.
Her throat tightened painfully.
She kicked off her shoes and dropped her bag without thinking, walking numbly to the couch.
The moment she sat down, all the weight she'd been holding in her chest seemed to sink at once, pulling her down until she slumped forward, elbows resting on her knees, hands gripping her face.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket.
Without even needing to check, she knew who it was—Kei.
Her fingers hesitated before unlocking it.
Kei - 3:42 PM
"I'm glad you're with a friend. Rest up, Ayaka. I'll see you tomorrow."
Her stomach twisted.
"Why did I lie...?"
She had lied so easily. Told her brother she'd stay at a friend's place.
Painted on that reassuring smile, her voice light and casual like it wasn't breaking her inside.
But here she was. Alone. Back in her apartment. No friend. No one.
Her fingers trembled slightly as she set her phone face down on the table.
Why had she even said that? Why had she felt the need to run, to pretend she was fine, when all she wanted was to curl up and disappear?
Her eyes burned, and she squeezed them shut, taking in a shallow, shaky inhale.
The worst part was how pathetic she felt—how stupid.
Stupid for thinking she could handle everything on her own. Stupid for letting herself hope, for letting her feelings spiral completely out of control when she should've known better.
Her thoughts kept circling back to earlier at the hospital—the way Akihiko had stood there, perfectly composed, perfectly unreadable. Not cold, exactly. Just… distant.
Professional.
Like she was just Kei's little sister. Another patient. Nothing more.
She bit down hard on her lower lip, a sharp, frustrated sound escaping her as she buried her face in her hands.
How did it come to this?
Why did she always end up here—feeling small, foolish, like she'd imagined something out of nothing?
The aching pressure in her chest swelled until it was unbearable.
Without thinking, she laid back, collapsing sideways onto the couch, her arm draped over her face.
The silence of her apartment pressed down around her like a heavy blanket, smothering.
Her mind wouldn't stop.
'You probably looked pathetic, didn't you?'
Her own words echoed cruelly in her head, the ones she'd muttered earlier at the bus stop as her tears refused to stop falling.
She squeezed her eyes shut tighter.
She hated this. Hated how raw she felt, how exposed.
Every emotion tangled messily together—frustration, sadness, embarrassment, longing—all of it spiraling until she wasn't sure where one feeling ended and the next began.
"Why did it hurt so much?"
Her chest felt hollow and full at the same time, like there was something she couldn't name pressing relentlessly against her ribs, begging to spill out—but she had no idea what to do with it.
Maybe it was better this way.
Maybe it was good she hadn't confessed. That she'd kept her mouth shut.
She was already unraveling just from this much. If she'd said anything more, she wasn't sure she'd be able to face herself, let alone him.
She let out a bitter laugh under her breath, but it came out shaky, broken. Her hand curled into a fist against her stomach as if she could physically hold herself together.
The minutes ticked by, slow and heavy.
Part of her wanted to call Kei. To ask him if he could come over or even Kai who knew everything about her and Akihiko.
But she couldn't bring herself to do it. Not after lying. Not when she didn't even know how to explain the mess inside her chest without sounding completely ridiculous.
She bit her lip harder, blinking back fresh tears, hating how weak she felt.
So instead, she stayed there, curled up on the couch in the dim light of her empty apartment, letting herself crumble quietly, with no one to witness it.
No one to stop her.