"Sooo…" Keiko began, dragging out the syllable with exaggerated curiosity as she sprawled across Ayaka's bed, kicking her legs up behind her.
She propped her chin in her hands, grinning mischievously. "What's the deal with you and that Miura guy?"
Ayaka, who had just flopped down beside her with a pillow hugged her chest, blinked. "What do you mean what's the deal? There's nothing going on between us."
Keiko narrowed her eyes, clearly unconvinced. "Uh-huh. Totally believable. Just like how nothing was going on when he casually announced on live television that you owe him coffee."
Ayaka flushed instantly. "That was a joke!" she sputtered. "It was part of a bet. He said if he could prove he was Moonlight Sonata, I owed him a coffee. That's all!"
"Oh, just a bet, huh?" Keiko teased, tossing a chip into her mouth.
She grabbed the bag and, with a smug grin, held one out to Ayaka. "C'mon, you're telling me that a guy who's as private as Moonlight Sonata just happens to reveal himself to you and then flirts with you on national TV for no reason?"
Ayaka grumbled as she accepted the chip. "He wasn't flirting. He was being… him. Dramatic and persistent."
"Mhm. Dramatically persistent in a very charming way." Keiko said, grinning wider.
Yuki, who had been quiet until now, sat cross-legged at the foot of the bed. She stared at the muted television where Makoto's interview still looped in clips on the entertainment channel. "Do you think…" she said slowly, "Nakamura saw it?"
Ayaka froze mid-chew.
The mood shifted instantly, like a breeze that turned unexpectedly cold.
"I don't know..." she whispered after a beat, lowering her gaze to her lap.
Yuki's brows furrowed, concern flickering in her eyes. "It's been how many months now?"
"7 months" Ayaka corrected quietly. "7 months since he disappeared."
Keiko exhaled loudly and crunched into another chip. "Well… maybe it's time to start moving on." she said, trying for nonchalance but missing the mark. "I mean, it's not like you can wait around forever. Besides, this Makoto guy is not exactly a downgrade. He's tall, good-looking, poetic, talented—and he clearly likes you."
Ayaka bit her lip but said nothing.
Yuki shook her head. "I don't know. I think the Ice Prince suits Ayaka better."
Keiko raised an eyebrow. "Oh, here we go."
"Seriously." Yuki insisted. "There was something… different between Ayaka and Nakamura. Something intense. You could feel it in the air when they were together. Like static before a storm."
Keiko laughed. "Yeah, well, intensity isn't everything. Miura's warm and he doesn't make Ayaka cry herself to sleep or vanish without a word."
"Nakamura never intended to hurt her." Yuki argued. "He left for a reason—I'm sure of it. You didn't see the way he looked at her. Like she was the only person who ever got past all that ice."
"You're romanticizing him." Keiko retorted.
"Just because he's mysterious doesn't mean he's the better choice. I mean, come on. He ran away, Yuki. Ran. And Miura? He literally wrote a book about her."
"That's exactly my point." Yuki snapped.
"Makoto's writing is a fantasy. Nakamura lived the reality. You think Ayaka needs someone who dreams about her or someone who actually held her hand especially when she was in pain?"
Ayaka groaned and pulled a pillow over her face. "Please stop debating my love life like I'm not here."
"Oh, we know you're here!" Keiko said smugly. "You're just too stubborn to admit whose name is tattooed all over that fragile little heart of yours."
"I don't have anyone's name tattooed on my heart." Ayaka mumbled from beneath the pillow.
Keiko turned to Yuki. "She totally does."
"Absolutely."
Ayaka threw the pillow aside with an exasperated sigh and sat up. "You two are the worst."
Keiko leaned back against the headboard, popping another chip. "Look, all we're saying is—you've got options. Miura is not a rebound. He's steady, talented, and probably emotionally available—"
"He's not Mr. Ice Prince." Yuki cut in gently. "And I think that's the problem, isn't it, Ayaka?"
Ayaka didn't answer.
Not right away.
Instead, she stood and walked slowly toward her desk.
The city lights outside her window reflected against the glass, a soft kaleidoscope of gold and blue.
She sat down in her chair and stared at her screen, the blinking cursor waiting, taunting.
"I don't think I'm cut out for romance." she said finally, her voice low and uncertain.
"I've had enough of it. So I'm just… going to focus on writing. That's all I can do right now."
Keiko rolled her eyes but didn't press further. Yuki didn't either.
They could both sense the subtle shift in her tone—the way it cracked slightly on the word "enough."
But neither girl brought it up.
Instead, they settled into a companionable silence, the kind only close friends could share.
Keiko stretched out on the bed with her phone, and Yuki curled up in the beanbag by the window, watching the lights of Tokyo flicker like distant stars.
At her desk, Ayaka stared at her open document.
Blank.
Not a single word typed.
Her fingers hovered above the keys, trembling slightly.
She thought of the book she'd finished. "His Melody."
Makoto's confession in a book.
It was beautiful.
It was brave.
And it wasn't what she needed.
Not now.
Not yet.
Because no matter how poetic the words, or how sincere the emotions poured into every chapter… her heart still beat in another rhythm.
A rhythm only Akihiko Nakamura had ever managed to match.
She reached up and touched the silver pendant resting against her collarbone. It was cold tonight.
Colder than usual.
But still...
There's just like the memory of him.
Just like the ache.
She could still remember the way he used to look at her—aloof yet soft around the edges.
Like she was the one thing he couldn't quite name but never wanted to lose.
She remembered the way he held her hand after the surgery, how he stayed by her side until morning, saying nothing but being everything.
She remembered the look in his eyes that night by the sea.
The look that said everything he never dared to speak.
And now… he's gone.
No message.
No explanation.
No goodbye.
Just gone.
A part of her wanted to scream.
To break things.
To chase after him until her legs gave out and her voice was hoarse from shouting his name.
But another part—the quieter part—was simply tired.
Tired of hoping.
Tired of hurting.
Makoto's voice echoed in her memory. "Even if your heart's not ready… I see something worth waiting for."
She swallowed hard and wiped at her eyes before any tears could fall.
"Why does everything have to be so damn complicated…" she whispered.
Behind her, Keiko snorted softly. "Because you're the main character of a romantic drama, obviously."
Yuki gave a tired smile. "And because love isn't supposed to be easy."
Ayaka turned slightly in her chair to look at them.
Both girls watch her with the kind of quiet understanding only best friends could offer.
And even though her heart was a battlefield of chaos, and she didn't know if she would ever see Akihiko again, or if Makoto's quiet patience would wear her down one day—
At this moment, she wasn't alone.
She turned back to her screen.
Still blank.
But not for long.
Her fingers slowly moved across the keyboard.
And the first words of her next chapter appeared like a whisper on the wind:
"The Painter and his Forgotten Masterpiece."
------
The sky had long since faded from golden hues to deep lavender by the time Keiko and Yuki stepped out of Ayaka's apartment complex.
The wind had a crisp bite to it, pulling at the edges of their jackets as they made their way toward the bus stop at the end of the block.
The streetlights flickered on one by one, casting long, swaying shadows across the pavement.
It had been a long evening.
They'd spent the last few hours keeping Ayaka company, trying to get her to eat something, trying to cheer her up, trying to act like everything was normal—even though nothing was.
Not since he disappeared.
Akihiko Nakamura.
Even the name carried a chill.
"Hey." Keiko said casually as she hugged her coat closer to her body, "Did you know Mori is still investigating Nakamura's disappearance?"
Yuki turned her head sharply. "What? Seriously?"
Keiko nodded, the corners of her lips twitching with intrigue. "Kazumi told Haruto, and Haruto told me. Apparently, Mori's been digging around for days. He's not buying Dr. Hasegawa's story. Says it doesn't add up."
Yuki stopped walking for a beat. Her brows furrowed, eyes narrowing in thought. "Of course he isn't."
"What do you mean?" Keiko asked, slowing her pace to match her friend's.
Yuki shrugged, but her expression was anything but casual. "Come on, Keiko. We're talking about Nakamura. That guy wouldn't just drop everything and disappear. No warning. No goodbye. Not even to Ayaka."
"She was the last person he'd ever leave hanging." Keiko muttered, biting her lip. "I mean, for someone who supposedly didn't care… he was always there for her."
"Exactly." Yuki said. "That man treated her like she was glass—like one wrong move and she'd shatter."
Keiko sighed. "So if Hasegawa is lying…"
Yuki nodded. "Then either something bad happened—or Nakamura's protecting something. Or someone."
The two of them fell into a contemplative silence for a while, only the crunch of gravel beneath their boots and the gentle rustle of tree leaves filling the space between them.
Finally, Keiko broke it.
"Do you think someone should stop Mori from looking into it?" she asked quietly.
Yuki blinked. "Why?"
"I mean…" Keiko hesitated, her voice dropping into something gentler, more hesitant. "What if he does find something—but it only makes things worse? What if Ayaka finds out… and it just destroys her all over again?"
Yuki let out a sharp breath, stopping in place. "Keiko…"
She turned to face her fully now, the shadows from the nearby lamplight dancing across her eyes.
"You think she isn't already destroyed?"
Keiko's lips parted, but no words came out.
Yuki continued, voice lowered now. "Ayaka's been holding on by threads. Pretending she's okay. Pretending she's moved on. But every time someone mentions Nakamura, she flinches. You saw it today—she couldn't even say his name."
"She smiled." Keiko said, defensively.
"A fake smile." Yuki snapped. "You know it. I know it."
Keiko frowned, her footsteps heavy now as they resumed walking. "Still… maybe she'd be better off if she moved on. I mean, Miura is kind, talented, and charming—"
"And he's not Nakamura." Yuki interrupted.
Keiko turned to her, annoyed. "Why are you so dead set on Nakamura? I mean, sure, he's good-looking, and he had that cool, stoic thing going on, but he also vanished without a word. Left Ayaka behind. No explanation. No closure."
"You think he wanted to leave?" Yuki countered. "You think that's who he is?"
"Well, we can't know for sure." Keiko said, crossing her arms as they reached the dimly lit bus stop. "People do strange things when they're in love. Or afraid."
Yuki sat down on the bench, staring ahead. "He's not a coward, Keiko."
"And you know that how?" Keiko asked, not unkindly. "Because he watched over Ayaka at the hospital? Because he was gentle with her? That doesn't mean he didn't walk away."
Yuki exhaled through her nose, tone hardening. "Because he looked at her like she was the only thing tethering him to this world."
Keiko hesitated, and something in her expression shifted—something quieter.
"And that's exactly why I'm worried." she admitted. "If Mori keeps pushing… and the truth is darker than we think, it's going to break her. Again."
"Maybe." Yuki said softly. "Or maybe the truth will set her free."
Keiko blinked, surprised by the conviction in her voice.
"I'm not saying we should shove answers in her face." Yuki continued. "But Mori… he's not doing this for fun. He sees how broken she is. He's trying to do something."
"Even if it hurts her?" Keiko whispered.
Yuki looked up at the sky. "Ayaka's not made of glass, Keiko. She's stronger than we give her credit for."
Keiko nodded slowly, tucking her hands into her sleeves. "So your bet's still on the Ice Prince, huh?"
Yuki smiled faintly. "I never planned to change it."
Keiko gave a dry laugh. "You're loyal, I'll give you that."
"And you?" Yuki asked.
"I…" Keiko hesitated. "I just want her to be happy. Whether that's Nakamura, or Miura, or just a cat and a good novel."
Yuki chuckled softly. "Fair."
They sat in silence as a soft breeze stirred the cherry blossoms overhead, a few petals fluttering down like snow. In the quiet, Keiko finally admitted: "Part of me still wants to believe he's coming back too."
Yuki looked over, surprised.
Keiko's voice dropped. "I don't like how he left, but… I saw the way Ayaka lit up when he was around. And the way he looked at her—like she was home."
The bus rumbled down the road in the distance, headlights bright against the evening gloom.
Yuki stood as it neared. "Then let's hope Mori finds what we need to bring him back."
Keiko stood beside her. "And if not?"
Yuki paused. "Then at least Ayaka will know the truth."
They stepped onto the bus together, the doors hissing shut behind them.