Chapter 19 – The Choice

Haru barely slept. Again.

Aya’s words from last night haunted her, echoing in her bones:

You’re the only one who makes me feel like this.

And then—the kiss. Not a real kiss, not like before, but the softest brush of lips against Aya’s cheek. Haru had done that. She had crossed that line.

She lay in bed long after dawn, staring at the ceiling as fear and longing wrestled inside her.

What did this mean for them? For their friendship? For their jobs? If anyone at Misora High found out, the rumors would explode—and in a conservative school like theirs, it could end everything.

But then she remembered the way Aya looked at her. Like Haru was gravity itself, pulling her in no matter how hard she fought.

And Haru realized, with a clarity that stole her breath:

I want her. More than I’ve ever wanted anything.

---

By the time lunch rolled around, Haru still hadn’t figured out what to do. She stood at the vending machine, fumbling with coins, when Shinichi appeared beside her with his usual easy grin.

“Takamine-sensei,” he said warmly. “Rough morning?”

Haru forced a smile. “Something like that.”

“Coffee usually fixes everything.” He gestured toward the faculty café. “Want to join me after school? My treat.”

Haru blinked. “I—oh, um—”

Her stomach lurched. Shinichi was kind. Handsome. And completely clueless that his timing was a grenade rolling into Haru’s already chaotic life.

Before she could stammer out a polite excuse, his gaze flicked over her shoulder—and Haru felt it. That sudden, sharp shift in the air.

---

Aya stood a few paces away, her gym jacket slung over one shoulder, eyes locked on them like a storm cloud ready to break.

“Aya,” Haru breathed, guilt slamming into her chest.

Aya didn’t look at her. Her eyes stayed on Shinichi, dark and unreadable. “You’re pretty friendly, Sato-sensei.”

Shinichi blinked, scratching his cheek. “Uh… just inviting her for coffee. No big deal.”

Aya’s jaw tightened, but her voice was soft when she spoke next. Too soft. “No big deal, huh?”

Haru’s pulse roared. This was bad. This was so bad.

“I—I should go,” she blurted, fumbling for an escape route—but before she could move, Aya did.

---

Aya stepped forward, closing the distance in two long strides. Her hand shot out—not to Shinichi, but to Haru.

Warm fingers wrapped around Haru’s, firm and unyielding.

Haru froze, breath catching as Aya laced their hands together like it was the most natural thing in the world. Aya’s skin was hot, her grip steady, sending a wildfire racing up Haru’s arm straight to her pounding heart.

“She’s with me,” Aya said flatly.

The words dropped like a thunderclap.

Haru’s brain short-circuited. She’s what? She’s WHAT?

Shinichi blinked, startled. “Uh… oh. I didn’t mean—”

“Good.” Aya’s tone was calm, almost lazy—but her eyes were molten steel. “Then we’re clear.”

And with that, she tugged Haru away, leaving Shinichi gaping in their wake.

---

Haru stumbled after Aya, her hand still trapped in that warm, ironclad grip. Her heart was beating so fast it hurt, every nerve ending alive with the sensation of Aya’s fingers threaded through hers.

They didn’t speak until they reached the back staircase, away from prying eyes. Aya finally stopped, pressing one hand to the wall beside Haru’s head, caging her in like before—but this time, her expression wasn’t teasing. It was raw. Fierce.

“You were going to say yes,” Aya said quietly.

Haru shook her head frantically. “I wasn’t—”

Aya leaned closer, her voice a husky whisper that made Haru’s knees tremble. “I don’t care what you were going to say. I’m done pretending I can share you.”

Haru’s breath hitched. “Aya…”

Aya’s fingers brushed her cheek, tender and possessive all at once. “Tell me to stop. If you don’t want me—say it now.”

Haru opened her mouth. Closed it. Every excuse she’d clung to shattered under the weight of Aya’s touch, her voice, her eyes.

Because the truth was screaming inside her, undeniable and wild:

I want you. Only you.

But fear still held her tongue.

Aya waited a beat longer. Then her jaw tightened, and she whispered, almost to herself: “Didn’t think so.”

She turned and walked away, leaving Haru pressed against the wall, shaking from head to toe—heart torn between terror and the desperate, reckless joy of what had just happened.

---

Haru slid to the floor the moment Aya was gone, fingers clutching the spot where Aya’s warmth lingered, whispering into the empty hallway:

“What… am I going to do?”