The Saturday morning air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of rain from the night before. Ili leaned against the railing of his room, the city stretching endlessly before him. The skyline shimmered with scattered light, and a few early risers bustled below, their hurried steps echoing faintly in the quiet.
He exhaled slowly, watching his breath fade into the cool air. His thoughts drifted back to the night before—the soft rumble of the train, the city lights rushing past, Kouko's quiet laughter, and the way she had leaned against him as she slept. His hand twitched slightly, brushing his shoulder as if the warmth of her presence still lingered there.
She had been so close. Yet now, she felt impossibly far away.
A part of him wished he'd said more. Done more. There had been a weight in her gaze, a quiet sadness woven into the lines of her smile. And at the park—when she'd simply said, "thank you"—it had carried far more than just gratitude.
His phone buzzed, snapping him back. A notification. Kouko's birthday.
Ili blinked.
A strange sensation bloomed in his chest. Why did he remember that? He wasn't the type to hold on to details like this, yet the thought had come to him so naturally the night before—as if it had always been there.
He couldn't piece it together. His memory felt like a puzzle with missing corners, the image never quite complete.
His fingers brushed the cool weight of the wisteria pendant in his pocket. The touch sent a shiver through him—not from the cold, but from something deeper. Familiar.
Wisteria… it was always her favorite.
The certainty of it struck him, though he couldn't explain why.
Letting out a quiet breath, he stood up. Letting Kouko's birthday pass without doing something felt wrong—like leaving a story unfinished. He didn't know what brought him to this moment or why fragments of her stayed in his thoughts—but he knew this mattered.
He wandered through the bustling streets, his hands tucked into his coat pockets as the city moved around him. Vendors called out, traffic hummed, and the aroma of roasted chestnuts lingered in the air. Yet Ili walked as if in a bubble, his thoughts too loud for the world to reach.
What am I even looking for?
He passed storefronts filled with trinkets and displays, none of them feeling right. None of them fitting her.
His hand brushed the edge of the wisteria pendant again—familiar, grounding.
Then, he turned a corner.
A boutique. Warm wood panels. Soft lighting. Understated but elegant. The kind of place easily missed unless you were meant to find it.
In the display: a bracelet. Silver chain, a single wisteria charm. Delicate. Detailed. Something stirred deep in his chest.
He didn't know why, but it felt like he had seen it before—in a dream, a memory, a moment that refused to surface.
He stood at the door, uncertain. Would this mean something to her? Would it bring comfort—or pain?
Then he remembered the look in her eyes at the park.
He stepped inside. The bell above the door chimed softly.
The boutique's interior was cozy, filled with warm amber light and the soft scent of lavender and vanilla. Jewelry lined the shelves in careful arrangements, each piece more delicate than the last.
A young woman behind the counter glanced up, offering a kind smile. "Good afternoon. Looking for something special?"
Ili hesitated, his eyes drifting toward the bracelet in the window. "Yeah… it's for someone's birthday. But I don't really know where to start."
"Someone close?" she asked, her tone curious but gentle.
"It's… complicated."
She chuckled. "Complicated usually means important."
He nodded slightly. "She liked something here yesterday. A bracelet. Wisteria."
"A lovely choice," she said, retrieving it from the window. "Delicate. Elegant. It speaks without needing words."
As she wrapped the bracelet in soft paper and placed it in a small box, she glanced up. "You must care about her a lot."
Ili was quiet. "I think I do," he murmured. "Even if I don't remember why."
She didn't ask more. Instead, she smiled and handed him the box. "Sometimes the heart remembers what the mind forgets."
He stepped back into the street, the box cool in his hands. Its weight, small as it was, felt significant. As if it carried more than a gift.
The late afternoon sun filtered through the café's windows, casting golden hues over the pavement. Ili slowed as he approached. Laughter floated out—a familiar voice among them.
Kouko.
She stood at the center of her group of friends, her hair catching the sunlight like firelight. For a moment, he just watched. She looked peaceful. Untouched by worry.
His fingers brushed the box again.
"Kouko," he said softly.
She turned. Surprise flickered in her eyes—then something gentler.
"Ili!"
He held out the box. "Happy birthday."
Her fingers brushed his. For a second, something shifted in her gaze.
"You remembered?"
He nodded. "I guess I did."
She opened it slowly.
Wisteria.
She inhaled sharply. "It's beautiful," she whispered.
A moment passed, still and fragile.
"Thank you, Ili. Really."
The words wrapped around his heart.
The chatter resumed behind them, but for Ili, time seemed to hold its breath.
Then a voice.
"Kouko!"
Tatsuya.
Ili stiffened.
She turned, then looked back.
"You should come with us," she said, voice soft. There was hope in it. A quiet invitation.
He hesitated. Then forced a smile. "Thanks… but I'll pass."
Her smile faded slightly.
"Alright. Maybe next time."
She lingered.
He watched her go.
And deep down, he wished he had said yes.
He wished he remembered why it hurt so much to say no.