The silence felt like it lasted forever. Elena was still looking at me with that quiet, unreadable expression, waiting. The warm smell of bread wrapped around us, but it didn't make me any less nervous.
"You seem nervous," she repeated softly when I didn't answer, tilting her head a little more. Her voice wasn't teasing, it was just… curious. Like she genuinely wanted to know why.
I opened my mouth. Nothing came out.
Great. Perfect. Amazing first impression for our first real alone time.
My brain finally kicked in with the safest, lamest thing possible.
"I—I'm always like this," I mumbled, staring harder at my hands. "When I don't know what to say. Which is… a lot."
Smooth, Mayumi. Tell her you're socially useless. That'll make her want to hang out more.
Elena didn't laugh or look away. Instead, the couch cushion shifted slightly—she leaned back a little, giving me space, but stayed turned toward me.
"That's okay," she said. "You don't have to say anything."
My eyes flicked up to her face before I could stop them.
She was smiling again. Not big, not mocking—just that same small, gentle curve at the corners of her mouth. Like she meant it.
My chest did that weird tight thing again.
Why does she have to say stuff like that? It's not fair.
My eyes darted around the living room, desperate for anything to focus on that wasn't her face. The usual furniture, the half-unpacked boxes in the corner, a stack of books and magazines on the coffee table…
Wait.
My gaze snagged on something familiar sticking out from one of the open boxes near the couch.
A corner of glossy cover. Bright colors. The exact art style I knew by heart.
No way.
I leaned forward without thinking, pointing at it.
"Is… is that a manga?" I asked, my voice coming out higher than I wanted. "That one right there—the one with the school uniform and the cherry blossoms?"
Elena followed my finger, then nodded like it was the most normal thing in the world.
"Yes," she said calmly, that small smile returning.
"It's mine."
My heart did a different kind of flip this time—not pure panic, but something excited and fluttery.
I couldn't help it. I scooted a little closer… just a tiny bit and peered into the box. There it was: Volume 3 of Our Days Under the Sakura, one of those classic high-school romance series I'd been hooked on for years. Boy-meets-girl, confessions under cherry trees, all the cheesy stuff people used to tease me about.
"You… read these?" I asked, looking back at her.
Elena nodded again, reaching into the box and pulling the volume out carefully. She held it between us like it was something worth showing.
"I do," she said. "I find them… interesting. The stories. The way people care about each other."
A sparkle lit up inside me—like someone had flipped a switch I didn't know was there.
Someone else liked them.
Someone pretty and calm and mysterious actually read the same "cringey" romance manga I used to get bullied for carrying around.
And she wasn't laughing. She wasn't calling it lame.
"Really?" I said, the word tumbling out before I could stop it.
"I mean—I have the first few volumes! This series is one of my favorites."
I hesitated, my excitement faltering for a second.
"Well… I used to, anyway. I don't read them as much anymore. I kind of… left the first volume up in the mountains a while ago. Perhaps I grew out of it, so I just… left it there."
The memory flashed quickly and unwanted—that rainy walk home, the drinking, slipping into the hole, the hurt animal, pouring my heart out like an idiot before leaving the comic as a stupid blanket. I shook it off fast. No way I was thinking about that embarrassing night right now.
Elena was quiet. The couch cushion shifted slightly under me.
Then again—more.
I blinked, realizing the space between us was shrinking. Elena was scooching closer, slowly, deliberately, the manga still in her hands.
I flinched a little, my back pressing into the armrest.
Wait—what's happening? Why is she moving closer?
She didn't stop until our knees were almost touching, her face only a foot from mine. Her eyes were fixed on me, bright and intense, like something important had just clicked.
"I see…" she whispered, almost to herself. The words were soft, barely louder than a breath.
My heart slammed against my ribs.
Why is she so close all of a sudden? What did I say? Is she mad? Did I do something wrong?
I couldn't move. Couldn't think straight. Her face was right there—those calm eyes, that faint smile still there, but now mixed with something I couldn't read.
The couch felt tiny.
The smell of warm bread drifted in stronger, but it didn't help.
Before I could figure out what to do—or if I should do anything—Hazel came bouncing back in with the tray of bread slices, Uncle Peter right behind her with butter and jam.
She stopped dead in the doorway for a split second, tray in hand, eyes darting between me and Elena—way too close on the couch.
Hazel's mouth twitched into a huge smirk.
"Well, well, well…" she said, drawing it out dramatically.
"What do we have here? Did I interrupt something? You two look awfully cozy~"
I felt my face explode with heat.
"Hazel!" I yelped, jerking back so fast I nearly slid off the couch.
She burst out laughing, plopping the tray down and dropping onto the seat beside me.
"Relax, relax! I'm just messing with you!"
Uncle Peter, completely oblivious, just smiled and started passing out the butter.
"Eat while it's warm, girls."
Elena leaned back smoothly to her original spot, like nothing unusual had happened.
We continued snacking on the warm bread, and somehow the moment just… passed. On the surface, everything went back to normal.
Hazel filled the air with her usual nonstop questions — about the city, about Elena's favorite foods, about whether she'd ever tried riding a jeepney. Elena answered everything politely, calmly, with that same small smile. Uncle Peter sat in his armchair, munching happily and watching us like this was the most ordinary afternoon ever.
But inside my head? Total mess.
Why did she get so close earlier? Cornering me again, just like on the path?
Was it something I said?
Did I make things weird?
I pretended to listen to Hazel, nodding and laughing when I was supposed to, but my eyes kept sneaking glances at Elena. She looked completely relaxed now — tearing off small pieces of bread, answering questions without missing a beat. Like nothing strange had happened at all.
Which only made me more convinced I'd messed up somehow.
Did she think I was pushy for pointing out her manga? Or childish for still liking those stories?
Or… was the mountain thing too random? Too depressing?
I chewed my bread slower than necessary, staring at my lap. My stomach twisted — not from hunger, but from that sinking feeling you get when you're sure you ruined something before it even started.
Hazel kept talking, Uncle Peter chuckled at her jokes, and Elena stayed quiet and polite.
By the time the plate was empty and Uncle Peter was wrapping extra slices for us to take home, I was half-convinced Elena couldn't wait for us to leave.
We said goodbye at the door — Hazel loud and cheerful as always, me quieter than usual, barely meeting anyone's eyes.
The second we were through our own gate, Hazel poked my arm.
"You went super quiet in there after the bread came out. Everything okay?"
"Yeah," I mumbled, clutching the wrapped bread tighter.
"Just… thinking."
She gave me a look but didn't push it.
That night, I lay in bed staring at the ceiling, the extra bread still on my desk.
I kept replaying the whole visit.
The smile when she saw me.
The way she got so close.
Then the sudden switch back to normal.
Did I imagine it? Or did I say something that made her think of something so deep?
I pulled the blanket over my head and groaned.
Great job, Mayumi. You probably weirded her out.
But even with all the doubt swirling in my head… I couldn't stop thinking about the manga.
Is she perhaps the same as me?
No way, there's just no way. Maybe she ran out of anything to read and probably discovered that manga by chance.
This summer was getting more confusing by the day. And I had no idea how to stop it.