Chapter 11 – The Almost Kiss

The cottage buzzed with quiet energy.

Kaito stood in front of the mirror by the door, fidgeting with the loose sash on the traditional festival robes Lyria had lent him. The deep blue fabric was surprisingly comfortable—though he felt a little like he was wearing a fancy bathrobe that had gotten lost on the way to a tea ceremony.

Behind him, Lyria was adjusting something at the table. She wore a soft cream-colored dress with lace at the sleeves and a matching ribbon tied in her hair—his ribbon. The one he’d clumsily bought at the last market day when he thought, "Hey, she might actually like this."

He hadn’t expected her to actually wear it.

She turned slightly. “You’re staring.”

“You look…” he cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck, “like you just stepped out of a dream and forgot to bring the moonlight with you.”

Lyria raised an eyebrow. “Was that… supposed to be a compliment?”

“I practiced it all morning,” he deadpanned.

She smirked. “Remind me to lower my expectations next time.”

They shared a look. A real look. The kind that lingered a bit too long, softened at the edges.

Then she turned away, pretending to check her satchel. “Ready?”

Kaito nodded. “As I’ll ever be.”

The village square glowed with warm light.

Lanterns hung from every post, gently swaying in the night breeze. Children laughed and chased fireflies. Musicians played soft tunes under the trees. The air smelled like roasted chestnuts and honey-glazed bread.

Kaito and Lyria walked side by side, close enough that their sleeves brushed when they turned. Villagers nodded to Lyria as they passed, a few even smiling knowingly at Kaito.

“Sheesh,” Kaito muttered. “You’d think we were secretly married or something.”

“Give them time,” Lyria said, tone dry. “They’re working on the wedding invites as we speak.”

Kaito snorted. “Guess we better start practicing our matching walking pace.”

“Oh no,” she said. “I fully plan to outpace you in every aisle.”

They passed a vendor selling hand-painted paper charms. Kaito bought one with a clumsy-looking star and handed it to her.

She blinked. “This is… kind of ugly.”

“Exactly. It matches my personality.”

Lyria gave a soft laugh and smiled—soft, amused, warm.

They wandered toward the edge of the square, away from the bustle, following the gentle curve of a cobblestone path that led to the quiet trees just past the shrine.

A single lantern had been tied to a low-hanging branch there, its warm light spilling in soft circles.

They stopped beneath it.

The music drifted faintly behind them. Fireflies danced lazily through the tall grass.

Lyria glanced up. “The sky looks different here.”

Kaito looked too. “Yeah. Less city. More stars.”

She looked back at him.

And for a moment, said nothing.

Kaito noticed a small petal tangled in her hair—probably from one of the nearby trees.

Without thinking, he reached out.

Her breath hitched slightly as his fingers brushed her hair, gently sweeping the petal away.

“You always do that,” she murmured.

“Do what?”

“Look at me like… like I’m not some mystery you’re trying to solve. Like I’m just… me.”

Kaito met her eyes. “Maybe I like the ‘just you.’”

Silence fell between them again—but this time, it pulsed with something more.

Lyria stepped just a little closer. The lantern above flickered slightly, as if sensing the moment.

Their eyes stayed locked.

Her gaze flicked to his lips.

His heart stuttered.

They leaned in—slow, uncertain, but certain enough.

Inches apart.

Close enough to feel the heat between them. The gravity.

Her fingers twitched at her side.

And then—

She froze.

Her breath caught.

And she pulled away, turning her face to the side.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, voice barely audible. “I can’t… not yet.”

Kaito stayed still.

His own heart ached—but not from pain. From almost. From hope.

He reached up and tucked the ribbon behind her ear again—gently, slowly.

Then smiled.

“Then I’ll wait.”

Lyria turned back to him, eyes wide and glassy.

“You always say the right thing,” she whispered.

“Not really,” he said. “I’m just finally saying what I mean.”

They stood like that a little while longer, surrounded by quiet light.

Not lovers yet.

But something even closer.