~ CHAPTER 14 – Three Months to Fall ~

{ Masumi Aikawa’s Point of View }

Three months.

That’s how long we agreed to play along.

Three months of polite meetings. Of quiet walks. Of smiling in front of our parents and pretending we weren’t waiting for the moment we could say no.

But now?

Now the “no” doesn’t feel so simple anymore.

Tetsuya meets me outside the music hall, coffee in one hand, headphones still around his neck.

“Sorry I’m late,” he says, brushing his bangs back. “Got stuck fixing a soundboard.”

“Didn’t notice,” I lied. “I enjoy standing around in the cold.”

He smirks. “You’re in a scarf and a coat.”

“You’re still late.”

We walk side by side, aimless, the way we do now.

Comfortable.

Uncomplicated.

Except for the part where everything is quietly complicated.

“So,” he says. “Two weeks left.”

I nod.

He doesn’t say more.

Neither do I.

Because the countdown makes it real.

“Do you think we’ll regret it?” I ask suddenly.

He looks over. “Regret what?”

“If we say no.”

He stops walking.

I do too.

His brows knit just slightly, like he wasn’t expecting me to say that out loud.

“Do you want to say no?” he asks, cautious.

“I don’t know.”

That’s the truth.

And for once, I’m not scared to admit it.

He exhales, slow and thoughtful. “I used to think this whole thing was stupid.”

“You didn’t exactly hide that.”

He almost smiles.

“But now?” he says.

He turns to face me fully.

“I think it’s the smartest mistake I ever agreed to.”

My chest tightens.

There’s something in his voice — something unguarded.

Something honest.

“Do you regret it?” he asks.

I don’t answer right away.

Because my instinct is always to protect. To deflect. To keep myself safe.

But then I think about his hand brushing mine. His crooked smiles. The way he listens now, even when I’m not speaking.

So I say:

“No. I don’t.”

And I mean it.

*

*

*

We found a bench near the edge of campus.

It’s quiet here — tucked behind the old lecture halls, half-wrapped in ivy and fading light.

I sit.

He sits beside me.

Neither of us speaks for a while.

But for once, the silence doesn’t feel like avoidance.

It feels like… permission.

“I thought I’d hate this,” I say.

“The trial?”

“Everything.”

He leans back, arms stretched along the bench behind me. “And?”

“I didn’t.”

I glance at him.

“I don’t.”

He tilts his head, studying me with that serious look of his — like he’s trying to draw the truth out of my expression without asking for it out loud.

“You surprise me,” he says.

“How so?”

“I thought you were all edges. Untouchable.”

“Not your fault. I made it that way.”

He nods. “Still. I like you better like this.”

I look at him — really look.

Tetsuya Hinami: the boy who was supposed to belong to someone else.

The boy who didn’t want any of this.

Who still doesn’t have to stay.

But might be choosing to.

I swallow. “Do you think we’d work? Like… really?”

His eyes drop to his hands.

“I don’t know,” he says. “But I want to find out.”

A breeze rustles the ivy behind us.

The sun’s dipped far enough that the sky is streaked with soft golds and deep purples — the kind of light that makes everything feel temporary and important.

And maybe that’s what we are.

Temporary. Important.

Possibly more.

He nudges my arm lightly. “We’ve still got two weeks.”

“Plenty of time to fall apart,” I joke.

“Or fall into something else.”

His voice is quiet when he says it.

And I don’t answer.

I just sit there beside him, letting the words hang between us like a promise neither of us is ready to make — but neither of us wants to break.

*

*

*

That night, I lay awake in my room.

The ceiling is dark, the window cracked open, and I can hear the wind brushing the trees outside.

Normally, this silence is where the doubts live.

Where the voices creep in — too loud, too familiar.

You're too much. You're not enough. You're only chosen out of duty.

But tonight, it’s quiet in a different way.

A softer way.

I think about Tetsuya’s voice when he said, “I want to find out.”

He didn’t promise me anything.

He didn’t pretend he had it all figured out.

But he stayed.

And that… matters more than I thought it would.

For so long, I’ve been the girl who takes the hit first.

The one who steals, protects, deflects — anything to keep control of the story. Anything to keep Yasuko safe. To keep myself safe.

I never thought about wanting something for myself.

I never thought I’d be allowed to.

But now?

Now there’s a boy who listens. Who doesn’t flinch when I speak bluntly. Who doesn't try to fix me, or change me, or compare me to my sister.

A boy who might actually like me — the messy, proud, sharp-edged version.

And for the first time, I think I might be okay with letting someone in.

Just a little.

I close my eyes and breathe.

Tomorrow, we’ll walk again. Maybe talk. Maybe not.

We won’t call it anything.

But maybe… we’ll both know.

That whatever this is…

It’s no longer pretend.