The next morning broke in pale gold.Mist clung to the lake like silk, lifting only when the first warmth of sunlight touched it. Inside the house, someone's alarm chimed once, then gave up; the smell of coffee drifted lazily through the rooms.
Miyako sat at the kitchen table, cup in both hands. She hadn't slept much. The message from the night before still sat unanswered in her phone, buried beneath the screen but not gone. Her eyes were steady, her smile the practiced kind that hid edges. When Kenji padded in, hair sticking up, she greeted him with the same gentle voice as always.
"Morning," she said.
"Morning," he answered, trying to read her face and deciding not to. "I made toast. It's only slightly tragic."
She smiled, faint and grateful, and that was enough for now.
Outside, the dock glowed with sunlight. Suki and Ryuzí were already arguing cheerfully over oars; their laughter carried across the water. Aoi stood nearby with her clipboard and calm, and Haruto was crouched by the edge, sketching the shimmer of light on the lake's surface.
"Ready?" she called.
He looked up, sunlight spilling across his cheek. "Almost."
"Come on," she said. "We'll miss the calm water."
He set his pencil down and followed.
They pushed off gently, two canoes gliding away from the dock. Suki and Ryuzí's voices echoed somewhere to the left—shouts, laughter, a splash that was definitely Suki losing a paddle. Aoi's canoe cut a clean line across the water, Haruto seated opposite her. The oars dipped and rose in rhythm, soundless except for the soft drip of returning water.
Aoi glanced up. "You've been quiet," she said.
"I like it here," he replied. "It feels… wide."
"It's good to see you looking," she said. "Really looking."
He smiled a little, eyes on the horizon. "You make it sound like a skill."
"It is," she said simply.
They drifted for a moment, the canoe turning slightly with the current. Haruto rested his oar across his knees, the reflection of light dancing over his hands. "Do you ever stop planning?" he asked after a while.
Aoi blinked. "What do you mean?"
"You're always writing lists. Organizing things. Taking care of us. Do you ever let yourself just… float?"
She laughed quietly. "That sounds like chaos."
"Maybe," he said. "But a good kind."
She set her own oar aside, letting the canoe sway. The silence settled again, deeper now, broken only by birds in the reeds. Haruto watched her face, how the sunlight caught in the small stray hairs that had escaped her braid, how her expression softened when she stopped thinking three steps ahead.
"This is strange," she murmured.
"What is?"
"Letting go."
He hesitated, then said, "You don't have to do it alone."
The words surprised them both.Aoi turned to him, searching his eyes, and for once he didn't look away. The boat rocked lightly beneath them, the world shrinking to a circle of water and light.
"Haruto," she said softly.
"Mm?"
"You're blushing already."
He froze. "I'm not—"
She smiled, leaning in before he could finish.
The kiss was small, almost hesitant, but it rippled through him like a drop into still water—quiet, expanding outward until he could feel it everywhere. Her lips were warm, her hand a light press at the back of his neck. The canoe rocked once, then steadied.
When she pulled back, he was sure his pulse was loud enough for the fish to hear.
Aoi's voice was steady again, though her cheeks were pink. "Now you are."
He blinked, trying to find words and failing. "That was—"
"Nice," she said, almost teasing. "And impulsive. Don't tell the others."
He laughed under his breath, finally. "They'll notice."
"Then let them guess."
The breeze shifted; the canoe drifted toward the sunlight. They sat there for a long time, saying nothing, letting the water do the talking. When they finally paddled back, Haruto's hands still trembled slightly on the oar, but his smile was easy and new.
On shore, Suki and Ryuzí were attempting to rescue a runaway sandal with a fishing net, and Kenji was filming them on his phone, commentary in full swing. Miyako stood beside him, the wind lifting strands of her hair. She looked peaceful enough that no one would have guessed how hard she was trying.
Aoi called out, "Everyone alive?"
"Mostly!" Suki yelled. "Ryuzí's pride is injured!"
"Confirmed," Ryuzí said dryly, pulling Suki's sandal from the water.
Kenji laughed and turned to Miyako. "See? Every day's a sitcom."
She smiled, but her eyes drifted briefly to the phone in her pocket. No new messages. The lake sparkled like nothing could touch it.
Aoi and Haruto reached the dock; Haruto climbed out first, nearly tripping over the edge. Suki shouted something teasing, and Haruto went even redder. Aoi only smiled to herself and tied the rope neatly to the post.
The rest of the day slid by in sunlight—lunch on the deck, lazy card games, an afternoon nap for whoever found the softest couch first. Laughter rose and fell through the house like wind through trees.
But when evening came and the others started preparing dinner, Miyako stepped away, saying she'd get something from her room. She closed the door behind her, sat on the edge of the bed, and finally unlocked her phone.
The screen was blank.
For a moment she exhaled, long and quiet. Then, as if on cue, the phone buzzed once more.
Unknown Number:Still ignoring me?
Her stomach turned cold. The lake outside the window glowed gold in the dying light, utterly indifferent. She locked the phone again and set it face-down on the nightstand.
Downstairs, Kenji's laugh drifted up, bright and easy. She held onto that sound for a second before turning off the lamp.
Outside, the sun slipped behind the ridge, and the first stars began to show.Haruto leaned on the porch railing, touching his lips like he was still making sure it had happened.Aoi joined him, carrying two mugs of tea.
"Here," she said, handing him one.
He accepted it, cheeks still faintly red. "Thanks."
They stood side by side, steam rising between them, the lake turning from silver to black.
Aoi looked out at the water, then at him. "You're thinking too loudly."
He smiled shyly. "I'm just trying to remember it right."
"You don't have to," she said. "It's not going anywhere."
The night hummed quietly around them.And somewhere inside the house, a phone buzzed again—three short vibrations, unanswered.
The lake kept its reflection steady, pretending not to notice the first hint of storm light gathering far beyond the trees.