Silent Decisions

CHAPTER-16

(Issei)

Issei had learned, over time, how to listen to silence.

It wasn’t something he was taught. It came from watching people leave rooms mid-sentence, from reading pauses instead of words, from noticing the things people didn’t say when they were trying to protect someone else. Silence carried intention. Weight. Direction.

And lately, the silence around Kana had been getting heavier.

He was sitting on the steps outside the campus library when he saw the photo for the first time.

Not because he went looking for it.

Because it found him.

A message popped up in the group chat he barely spoke in anymore.

“Isn’t this you?”

He frowned slightly before opening it.

The image loaded slowly. Graduation robes. Sunlight. Kana, mid-smile, diploma clutched to her chest. And beside her, him. 

Close, unmistakable, framed in a way that didn’t look accidental.

His chest tightened, not with fear, but with understanding.

So this is how it starts.

The comments beneath it scrolled endlessly.

Supportive. Curious. Speculative.

Who’s the guy?
They look close.
Didn’t know she was dating.

Nothing cruel yet. But Issei knew better than to mistake calm water for safety. He had seen this pattern before. Friends of friends who dated people with visibility. Small rumors swelling into headlines. Narratives written by strangers who didn’t care about collateral damage.

He locked his phone and leaned back against the railing.

He didn’t need anyone to explain what was coming next.

The label would call her in.

They would smile first. Praise the song. Talk about momentum, timing, opportunity. And then, gently, carefully, they would steer the conversation somewhere else.

Image.
Focus.
Discretion.

They would never say his name.

They wouldn’t need to.

Issei stared across the quad, watching students move in clusters, graduation programs folded under their arms, laughter spilling freely. For them, today was an ending.

For Kana, it was something else entirely.

He thought back to the park.

The bench. The quiet. The way her voice had steadied when she said she felt the same, as if admitting it out loud anchored her to something real. 

He remembered the way she looked at him not like a celebrity, not like a future brand, but like a person she trusted.

That was the part that stayed with him.

That was the part that made this harder.

He took out his phone and messaged.

Kana.

You okay?

Three words. Care wrapped in simplicity.

He stared at the screen longer than necessary.

Of course she would be worried. Even now, even with everything happening around her, her instinct would be to check on him. To pull him closer rather than push him away.

So that's why he made sure to actually look after her first.

That was exactly why this situation was dangerous.

She sent a response.

Yeah. You?

He paused, and made sure not to show his feeling in anyway.

He tried writing a response but deleted it because he didn't know how should he.

He tried again.

I’m fine. Just saw the photo. Congrats again.

He sent it before he could rethink it.

Almost immediately, the typing bubble appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again.

He could picture her right now. Probably sitting somewhere too quiet. Shoulders tense. Phone held too tightly. Trying to decide how much of the truth she was allowed to share.

Issei exhaled slowly.

He didn’t resent her.

Not for the song. Not for the attention. Not for the path unfolding in front of her with an inevitability that felt both earned and merciless.

If anything, he admired her more.

She had built this with her own hands. Her own voice. Long nights, quiet sacrifices, relentless self-doubt. She hadn’t stumbled into fame. She had carved her way toward it.

And that meant the world would now demand things from her.

Things it would never ask of him.

He stood and started walking, letting the campus guide him without direction. Past the fountain. Past the bench near the library where she used to sit and write. Past the café where they had shared soft laughter and even softer silences.

Every place held a version of her that felt untouched by cameras or expectations.

He knew those versions wouldn’t disappear.

But he also knew they would become harder to access.

By the time he reached the edge of campus, his phone buzzed again.

Kana:
They called me in today.

He stopped walking.

The city noise pressed in around him, but he barely heard it.

Of course they did.

He typed slowly.

How did it go?

Another pause. Longer this time.

Kana:
It was… fine. I think.

Fine. The most dangerous word in any conversation.

He could almost hear the unspoken rest.

Fine meant careful. Fine meant measured. Fine meant she was already being asked to hold parts of herself at arm’s length.

He didn’t ask for details.

He already knew the shape of them.

Instead, he typed:

I’m proud of you.

The reply came almost instantly.

Kana:
That means more than you know.

His chest tightened.

That was the moment something inside him settled into clarity.

Love, he realized, wasn’t just about wanting to stay.

Sometimes it was about knowing when your presence added weight instead of relief.

He leaned against a lamppost and stared up at the sky, pale and stretched thin with evening light. The world felt wide in a way that made decisions feel small and enormous at the same time.

He thought about his own life. His job offer sitting unopened in his email. A different city. A quieter path. One that didn’t come with spotlights or speculation.

He had dismissed it before.

Not now.

Now, it felt like a door he had always known was there.

Issei unlocked his phone and opened the email again, reading the offer more carefully this time. The dates. The start time. The address.

Soon.

Too soon.

Or maybe exactly when it needed to be.

He closed the email and looked back at Kana’s last message.

He didn’t reply right away.

Instead, he typed a note in his phone.

Not a goodbye.

Not yet.

Just words. Fragments. Things he wanted her to know someday, when the noise wasn’t so loud.

That he understood.
That he never blamed her.
That some distances were chosen out of care, not fear.

He saved it.

Outside, the city lights flickered on one by one.

Issei put his phone back into his pocket and kept walking.

For now, he would stay.

But he could already feel the shape of leaving forming quietly in his chest.

And when the time came, he knew exactly how he would do it.

Without making her choose.

END CHAPTER-16