Chapter 28 – When Instinct Spoke Louder Than Fear

The set smelled faintly of dust and warm lights.

Aiko stood near the window of the studio room, her script folded in her hands. Her eyes, however, weren’t on the lines. They were on Mai.

Mai was sitting on the floor with the props team, swinging her legs as she waited for the next scene. She laughed at something one of the staff said, that clear, bell-like laugh that always made Aiko’s chest ache in a way she still couldn’t explain.

Yuji stood at the edge of the set, arms crossed, watching everything.

Watching her.

Aiko could feel his presence like a weight and an anchor at the same time.

The director clapped his hands. “Alright. Scene twelve. Let’s move.”

This scene was simple on paper. A busy street. A distracted mother. A child stepping forward at the wrong moment. Fear. Panic. Then safety.

It was meant to be symbolic.

None of them knew how real it would become.

The set designers had built a convincing street corner. Painted road. Fake storefronts. Controlled movement. Everything planned.

Everything safe.

Or so they thought.

Mai stood on her mark, clutching her small bag. Aiko stood a few steps behind her, reading lines under her breath, forcing herself to breathe evenly.

“Action.”

Mai took her cue and stepped forward, just as written.

That was when something went wrong.

A heavy lighting stand, loosened by movement earlier, tilted slightly. No one noticed at first. The crew was focused on the monitor. The camera angle hid it.

Aiko saw it.

She didn’t think.

She dropped the script.

“Mai!” she shouted.

Before anyone could react, the stand tipped fully, metal screeching as it fell.

Aiko ran.

She reached Mai just as the stand crashed down. She twisted her body instinctively, wrapping herself around the child, taking the weight on her own shoulder and back as they hit the floor.

The sound echoed through the studio.

“Cut! CUT!”

Chaos erupted.

Yuji was already running.

“Aiko—Mai!”

Crew members rushed forward. The stand was lifted away. Aiko lay on the floor, breath knocked out of her, arms locked tightly around Mai.

“Are you hurt?” Aiko gasped, her voice shaking.

Mai’s eyes were wide, but she wasn’t crying.

“I… I think I’m okay,” she whispered.

Aiko exhaled a broken sob of relief and hugged her tighter.

Yuji reached them, dropping to his knees. His hands hovered, unsure where to touch first.

“Mai,” he said urgently. “Look at me. Does anything hurt?”

Mai shook her head slowly.

Yuji’s gaze lifted to Aiko. Her shoulder was already reddening, her sleeve torn.

“You,” he said sharply. “Why did you—”

Aiko met his eyes.

“I didn’t think,” she said simply. “I just… moved.”

Yuji swallowed hard.

The studio manager shouted for a medic. Someone brought water. Someone else covered them with a blanket.

Aiko sat up slowly, still holding Mai’s hand.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I scared you.”

Mai looked at her for a long moment.

Then she leaned forward and hugged Aiko around the neck.

“It’s okay,” Mai said. “You saved me.”

Aiko’s breath hitched.

She wrapped her arms around Mai without thinking, tears sliding down her cheeks.

Yuji watched them, heart in his throat.

For the first time, he saw it clearly.

Not acting.

Not regret.

Instinct.

The medic checked Aiko’s shoulder. “You’ll bruise. Maybe strain. But nothing broken.”

Yuji let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

The director approached, pale. “We’re stopping for today. I’m so sorry—”

Yuji nodded curtly. “Good.”

He turned to Mai. “Do you want to go home?”

Mai hesitated, then looked at Aiko. “Can she come too?”

The question hung in the air.

Yuji looked at Aiko. She was still shaking slightly, but her eyes were steady. Honest.

“I won’t force anything,” she said quietly. “I just… wanted to make sure she was okay.”

Yuji was silent for a long moment.

Then he nodded once.

They walked out together.

Outside, the late afternoon light painted the street gold. Aiko walked a step behind them, unsure where she belonged.

Mai suddenly reached back and grabbed her hand.

Aiko froze.

Her fingers were small. Warm.

Real.

Aiko’s throat tightened.

Yuji noticed but didn’t pull Mai away.

They walked like that for a few steps. Three shadows stretching forward.

At the corner, Mai looked up at Aiko. “You didn’t let go.”

Aiko smiled through tears. “I won’t.”

Mai thought for a moment. “You’re not like the mom in the story.”

Aiko knelt down so they were eye level. “Is that bad?”

Mai shook her head. “It’s better.”

Yuji turned away, pretending to check his phone, but his chest felt tight.

Something fragile had shifted.

Not forgiveness.

Not yet.

But trust.

And sometimes, that was where love began again.