Chapter 19: Fireworks & A Heart That Remembers

The beach festival came alive as the sun dipped below the horizon. Paper lanterns lined the boardwalk, glowing like tiny fire spirits. Music drifted from the food stalls, mixing with laughter and sea breeze.

Students wandered in pairs without thinking about it. Some chased fireworks vendors, some sneaked off to buy matching keychains, some lingered under the lights pretending they weren’t hoping to be noticed.

Ren didn’t realize he was drifting until he stopped walking.

Yuki stood beside him, holding a cup of shaved ice, looking out toward the dark shoreline. The first firework shot upward, blooming white and gold across the sky.

She glanced at him.

“…You followed me.”

“I didn’t,” he said.

He absolutely did.

Yuki didn’t call him out on it. She just looked back up at the sky as the next firework burst into blue.

The colors reflected in her eyes, bright and warm. Ren’s chest tightened in a way he hadn’t felt since… those same summer nights in their other life.

A pause settled between them—quiet, but not empty.

Then Yuki whispered, almost afraid to break the moment,

“Ren… do you remember our first fireworks after graduation?”

Ren didn’t look away from the sky.

“I remember everything.”

Yuki’s breath caught.

The third firework burst overhead, scattering red sparks like falling petals.

Their shoulders brushed.

Neither moved away.

They stood there, two teenagers with the hearts of ex–husband and ex–wife who had loved each other for years, lost each other, and were slowly finding their way back without meaning to.

Far behind them, half-hidden by a row of festival stalls, Sena watched.

She held her summer drink tightly, knuckles pale.

It wasn’t the fireworks that lit her face—it was the realization settling in with quiet heaviness.

She had never stood a chance.

Not when he looked at Yuki like that.

Not when Yuki looked back the same way.

Sena lowered her gaze, sighing once before slipping away into the crowd. Even her disappointment was soft, like she knew forcing anything now would only hurt her more.

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On the far end of the beach, Haru and Mina wandered toward the pier after buying skewers and failing to split the bill without arguing about it.

They found an empty bench. Haru sat stiffly. Mina sat closely—closer than usual, close enough that Haru’s ears turned red on instinct.

The fireworks crackled overhead, painting the water in shifting colors. Mina leaned in ever so slightly, her head settling gently against Haru’s shoulder.

He didn’t move.

He couldn’t.

He looked like a statue trying to disguise the fact he was melting from the inside out.

“Mina,” he whispered, “your hair is getting in my face.”

“Deal with it.”

He froze.

She didn’t move away.

A small smile tugged at her lips, hidden by her hair.

For once, she didn’t pull back, didn’t tease, didn’t pretend she felt nothing.

For once, she let herself enjoy how safe it felt.

How right it felt.

Above them all, the final firework burst into a cascade of gold, falling slow like warm rain.

Ren and Yuki watched it together, shoulders touching, hearts remembering things they weren’t ready to say out loud yet.

Haru stayed perfectly still, too scared to breathe in case Mina lifted her head.

And the night closed around them with a gentle promise:

Some feelings don’t disappear.

They wait—quiet, patient—until the moment you’re ready to face them again.