~ CHAPTER 15 – A Decision Approaches ~

{ Masumi Aikawa’s Point of View }

It’s strange how quickly three months can disappear.

You agree to a trial engagement like it’s a game — like you’ll just go through the motions, nod politely, and walk away with nothing changed.

But things change.

People change.

He changed me.

The morning of the meeting, I sat in front of my vanity longer than usual.

I don’t know what to wear.

Everything feels too polished. Too formal. Too fake.

I settled on something simple: navy blue, clean lines, no shine.

Tetsuya once told me I looked best when I wasn’t trying to impress anyone.

I don’t know what that means yet, but I want to believe he meant it.

Downstairs, my parents are already waiting — calm, collected, sipping tea like this is just another weekend brunch.

My mother glances up. “You’re not wearing the dress we picked.”

“No,” I say. “I’m not.”

She opens her mouth to respond, but my father gently sets his teacup down. “It doesn’t matter. As long as she’s ready.”

Am I?

I’m not sure.

But I nod anyway.

We arrived at the Hinami estate by late morning. It’s all clean white stone, sculpted trees, and servants who bow too deeply.

Tetsuya’s mother greets us with a graceful smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

Tetsuya’s already there.

Standing tall in a slate gray jacket, hands tucked into his pockets like he’s trying not to look nervous.

Our eyes meet.

Just briefly.

But it’s enough.

I exhale slowly and sit beside him.

The room is arranged like a negotiation — two families facing each other, porcelain cups between them, silence heavy and waiting.

And then the question is asked.

“So,” my father says, folding his hands, “the three months are over. Have the two of you come to a decision?”

Time stops.

Tetsuya looks at me.

And for the first time in this entire arrangement, he doesn’t look away.

“I have something to say,” he says.

*

*

*

{ Tetsuya Hinami’s Point of View }

The moment I say it — “I have something to say” — the entire room tightens.

My mother’s smile wavers.

Masumi’s father leans forward, brows raised in silent expectation.

But I don’t look at any of them.

I only look at her.

Masumi.

And she nods — just once. Small. Subtle. Like she’s giving me permission to tell the truth, whatever it is.

“I didn’t want this,” I began. “Not at first.”

A beat of silence.

“I fought it. I thought it was unfair. Forced. And I thought… I’d never be able to connect with someone if we were pushed into it.”

Another pause.

Their expressions shift — guarded, tense.

But I keep going.

“Then I got to know her.”

I glance at Masumi.

And for the first time, she’s not wearing any kind of mask.

Just waiting.

Listening.

Letting me say it.

“She’s bold. Sharp. Smarter than anyone gives her credit for. She doesn’t try to impress people, and she doesn’t let anyone see the things that hurt her — but they’re there.”

I swallow.

“And I see them now. I see her.”

My father clears his throat, but doesn’t speak.

Neither does hers.

No one moves.

So I say it.

“I want more time. Not because I’m unsure — but because I care about where this is going.”

I look at Masumi again.

And this time, I say it just for her:

“I want to keep walking forward — with you.”

She doesn’t speak right away.

She just exhales — slow, deep, and steady — and turns to face our parents.

“I do too,” she says. “But not because you told me to.”

She lifts her chin slightly.

“Because we chose this.”

That’s the moment something shifts in the room.

Not loudly.

Not dramatically.

But enough.

Enough to start writing a story that’s finally ours.

*

*

*

For a moment, no one says anything.

Just the faint sound of the teapot settling on the tray. The tick of the ornate clock in the corner.

Then, my mother leans forward, hands folded neatly in her lap.

“So… you’re not rejecting the marriage.”

It’s not a question.

But I answer anyway.

“No. We’re saying we want to move at our own pace.”

Masumi adds, “And on our own terms.”

Her mother’s lips press together, just slightly. I can tell she’s calculating how this plays into the future she imagined.

My father raises an eyebrow. “This is… unexpected.”

“I know,” I say. “But it’s not impulsive.”

Masumi glances at me, then back at the table. “We’re not asking for permission. We’re asking for space.”

There it is.

Simple.

Clear.

Grown.

The silence stretches for a breath too long.

Then my father lets out a quiet exhale — half a sigh, half a laugh — and leans back in his chair.

“Well,” he says, “I suppose that’s better than a hard ‘no.’”

Masumi’s father chuckles, dry and short. “She gets that stubborn streak from her mother.”

Her mother narrows her eyes but says nothing.

My mother finally speaks again, softer this time. “If this is what you both want… we’ll step back.”

A pause.

“But we’ll be watching.”

Masumi nods. “We wouldn’t expect anything less.”

The conversation shifts.

Eases.

Plans are mentioned — not about weddings, but dinners. Time. Trust.

And I realize…

We didn’t win a battle.

We just made a choice.

Together.

And for now, that’s enough.

*

*

*

{ Yasuko Aikawa’s Point of View }

I heard about it through overheard conversation.

A phone call. A muttered remark. A name spoken too casually in the hallway.

My parents had a meeting with the Hinami family this morning.

About Masumi.

And Tetsuya.

Again.

I’m not surprised.

But I am tired.

Tired of the way everything big happens just out of my reach — like I’m standing in a house full of closed doors, and everyone forgot I live here too.

I passed Masumi in the kitchen that evening.

She’s pouring tea, humming softly to herself like the world hasn’t shifted beneath her feet.

I want to ask what happened.

But something stops me.

Maybe it’s pride.

Maybe it’s fear of being told it’s “none of my business.”

Maybe it’s the quiet voice in my head that still says, You’re not part of this story.

So instead, I sit on the back porch.

Shoichi texts me something dumb — a blurry photo of his dinner and a caption that just says: nailed it.

I smile.

Just a little.

The stars are out tonight.

And somewhere inside, Masumi is drinking tea like she always does.

But she doesn’t say anything.

And neither do I.

Because we’ve both gotten too good at living beside each other in silence.