Chapter 45: The Game – “Who Knows Better?”

The hotel room was quiet except for the faint hum of the air conditioner. Outside, the city slept, and the moonlight spilled through the half-drawn curtains, casting thin silver stripes across the carpet. Kosuke sat on the edge of the sofa, hands clasped loosely in his lap, trying not to let the weight of the night crush him. Hanami perched on the armrest opposite him, knees tucked close, hands folded neatly, her face still carrying traces of the tears she had shed earlier.

Neither of them spoke at first. They just stared at the small room, as if seeing it for the first time through the other’s eyes. The silence was heavy but not uncomfortable—quiet like the pause in a conversation that holds the words you’ve been dying to say.

“I’m bored,” Hanami finally said, her voice low but teasing, cutting through the tension.

Kosuke looked up, raising an eyebrow. “Bored? After all that crying?”

She sniffled and gave a small smile. “Yeah… bored. Let’s do something.”

Kosuke studied her for a moment. There was still vulnerability in her posture, the way her shoulders curved inward, the slight tremor in her hands. But there was also mischief, the Hanami he remembered, always finding ways to make him laugh. “Alright,” he said cautiously. “What do you want to do?”

She tilted her head and bit her lip. “A game. Something… simple. Something to see if we even remember each other anymore.”

Kosuke’s chest tightened. The idea both thrilled and terrified him. He nodded. “Okay. What’s the game?”

Hanami’s lips curved into a faint, serious smile. “Who knows better. One question each. If you get it wrong… you tell a secret. Something you’ve never told anyone. Not even me.”

Kosuke blinked. “Even you?”

“Especially you,” she said, and there was a gravity in her tone that made his stomach clench. “I want the real answers tonight.”

He exhaled and nodded. “Alright… you first.”

Hanami’s eyes sparkled, a mischievous light returning to them. “Fine. What was my favorite ice cream when we were fifteen?”

Kosuke closed his eyes for a moment. He remembered the late summer afternoons, the cone she always ordered before he even realized she had a favorite. “Mint chocolate,” he said softly.

She smirked, rolling her eyes. “Damn it… correct.”

Kosuke let out a small laugh. “You made me buy it three times in one week.”

Hanami chuckled. “And you complained every single time.”

He smiled faintly. “Fair enough.”

Now it was his turn. “What was my dream job in middle school?” he asked, trying to keep his voice casual.

Hanami’s brow furrowed, lips pressed together. Then she smiled faintly, teasing. “A train conductor.”

Kosuke froze. “How do you remember that?”

“Because you practiced the announcements every day, in front of everyone,” she said, laughing softly.

The game continued. Questions at first were playful—favorite books, songs, snacks from childhood—but slowly, the questions became more serious.

“Why did you stop messaging me during college?” Hanami asked one time, voice barely above a whisper.

Kosuke froze. He didn’t answer immediately. He could feel her gaze on him, steady, patient, but demanding honesty.

Finally, he asked back, voice low. “Why did you throw away your dream of becoming an illustrator?”

Neither of them had the answers ready. Both got the other’s question wrong. Both revealed secrets they had never dared to say before.

Kosuke spoke first, voice raw. “I kept hoping that one day, things would be like they used to… that you would come back to me. But I couldn’t reach out. I thought it would be too late.”

Hanami’s throat tightened. “I… I thought you forgot me. I thought if I stopped writing, if I didn’t respond, maybe you’d move on. I couldn’t handle seeing you… I was scared of rejection, of losing you entirely.”

They breathed together, letting the truth settle between them. The room felt smaller, warmer, filled with confessions that had been buried for years.

Hanami’s eyes glistened. “Kosuke… is there something I don’t know? Something from back then?”

Kosuke exhaled slowly. His chest tightened as he realized he had been holding this in for years. He looked different—older, tired, emotional, finally ready to unburden himself.

“Yeah,” he whispered. “There’s something.”

Her eyes softened. She leaned forward slightly. “I’m listening.”

He swallowed, then spoke, voice barely above the hum of the air conditioner. “I came to your wedding. I saw you in your dress. You were… beautiful. I couldn’t stay for the ceremony. I left before anyone noticed me.”

Hanami’s hand flew to her mouth. Her breath caught. “You… were there?”

Kosuke nodded, his gaze dropping to the carpet. “I thought I could handle it… but I couldn’t. I wasn’t ready to watch you promise yourself to someone else.”

Tears welled up in her eyes. “Kosuke… why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I didn’t want to ruin your happiness. Because I thought leaving it unsaid was safer… for both of us.”

Hanami shook her head, sobbing quietly. “All these years… you suffered alone.”

“And you thought I moved on,” he said, voice cracking. “We were both wrong.”

The air in the room was heavy but safe. Slowly, Hanami reached out and took his hand. Kosuke let her, letting himself finally feel the weight of her touch after years of separation. Her fingers were warm, tentative, but grounding.

“I hated thinking you were married,” she whispered. “I hated pretending I was fine.”

“I hated pretending too,” he admitted. “But tonight… tonight we finally know. We’re not pretending anymore.”

For the first time in years, Kosuke and Hanami allowed themselves to be fully honest, fully vulnerable, without pretense, without fear. Their game had started as a distraction, a playful way to remember the past, but it had become a bridge—one that brought them back to each other.

They sat together, hand in hand, quiet in the dimly lit room, letting the long-lost truth heal the distance between them, one confession at a time.

Outside, the city slept. Inside, two hearts, once lost in years and misunderstanding, finally began to find their way back.

-