[The dull glow of a computer screen lit the dim, cluttered room. Empty wrappers and half-eaten snacks were scattered across the desk like forgotten memories. Crumbs peppered the keyboard, and a half-spilled bag of chips rested dangerously close to the edge. Amidst the quiet hum of the desktop, a soft ding echoed.
A notification popped up on the screen.
YOU HAVE UNLOCKED A NEW STORY IN 'DEAR DAISY'
The girl leaned in. Black, straight hair framed her face as she squinted behind thick, black-rimmed glasses. Her mouth was still smudged with orange dust from snacks, her fingers stained from careless munching. But when she saw the notification, she paused—almost reverently.
She wiped her hands quickly on a tissue and clicked.
"Silent Heart?"The glow of the computer screen cast a pale light across the cluttered room.
The screen changed, and her eyes reflected the shifting light. The room remained dim, untouched by time, as she scrolled slowly—carefully. Her face remained mostly hidden, the screen's light playing along her features, but her breath grew softer. She pulled her knees up to her chair, curling slightly, snacks forgotten.
Then, she began to read.
{The afternoon sun bathed the riverside in a golden hue, casting long shadows that danced along the pavement. A young man in a high school uniform sprinted past the storefronts, a football clutched tightly under his arm. Sweat soaked through his shirt, and his caramel-brown hair clung to his forehead. His breath came in ragged gasps as he murmured, "Damn, I'm late."
He paused beside a quaint bookstore, bending over with his hands on his knees to catch his breath. The shop's window displayed an array of novels, their covers faded from the sun. Through the glass, he spotted a girl browsing the shelves. Her golden-blonde hair cascaded in gentle waves, and black square-framed glasses perched on her nose. She smiled softly as she flipped through the pages of a book, seemingly lost in another world.
Sota's honey-brown eyes lingered on her, his heartbeat slowing not from rest but from the sudden stillness she brought. She looked up, their eyes meeting for a brief moment. Caught staring, he quickly turned away, resuming his run toward the school grounds.
"Bro, you're late!" a teammate shouted as Sota arrived at the field.
"Sorry, got held up," he replied, forcing a grin.
Despite his playful demeanor and penchant for jokes, Sota was a cornerstone of the football team. His physical strength and unwavering spirit made him one of the team's aces, second only to Enji. Though his academic performance was average, his dedication to the sport was unparalleled. He had trained in Taekwondo during his younger years, a discipline that contributed to his agility on the field. Now, as he joined his teammates, the earlier encounter at the bookstore lingered in his mind, a silent heartbeat echoing beneath the day's rhythm.
The next morning, Sota slouched at his desk, his chin resting on folded arms, eyes half-lidded with boredom. The classroom buzzed with the usual chatter, but his mind drifted elsewhere. Then, the door creaked open, and in walked the girl from the bookstore. His eyes widened in disbelief as she made her way to the front row.
"What is she doing here?" he muttered under his breath.
She settled into her seat, her golden-blonde hair catching the morning light. Sota leaned toward his neighbor.
"Was that girl always in our class?"
His classmate looked at him, incredulous. "Yeah. Don't tell me you didn't know! She's our second class president."
"What's her name?"
"Hana. She's brilliant, especially in biology. Super friendly too—that's why we chose her."
But Sota barely heard the rest. His gaze remained fixed on Hana, puzzled at how he'd never noticed her before.
From that day on, Sota arrived at school earlier than anyone else, just to catch a glimpse of Hana as she studied diligently at her desk. He began to frequent the bookstore more often, hoping for a chance encounter. Eventually, he took a part-time job there, eager to be closer to her.
On his first day behind the counter, Hana approached.
"Are you new?" she asked, her voice gentle.
"We—ll. Yeah. I am," Sota stammered.
"Could you perhaps recommend me a book about theories?"
"Yeah, sure." He turned to search the shelves but quickly realized he didn't know where to look.
Hana chuckled softly. "It's okay. It's my fault. You probably don't know where those books are since you're new. I'll find it myself. I come here every day at this time. So, please take care of me from now on. I hope we will be good friends."
As she walked away, Sota stood frozen, her words echoing in his mind. That night, he studied the store's layout meticulously, determined to assist her better next time.
Their conversations remained centered around books, never delving into personal matters. Yet, with each passing day, Sota felt a growing connection, cherishing every moment they shared.
Sota would always rush to the bookstore whenever our football practices finished. But then one day, he saw Hana come to the playground with some friends to cheer our team on. He thought maybe Hana noticed him and wanted to come to the playground for him. But that wasn't the case; Hana's glance was never on Sota's—instead, it was on Satoru's.
Hana would always come with a cold, fresh water bottle to cool down Satoru after playing. She would always hand it over to Satoru. Sometimes Satoru never took the bottle, and sometimes he took it from her and thanked her. Satoru and Hana were close because they were in the student council together, and Satoru was our first class president.
Those moments when Hana talked with Satoru on the playground and even in school, Sota's heart would always break out as he would always look so depressed. But then one day, our teammates decided to eat at a cafeteria together. We invited Kei, Hana, and some other girls as well. That time, I, Satoru, Enji, Sota, Kei, Hana, and one of Hana's friends sat together.
We got closer that time. And that was the first time Sota and Hana talked with each other about their personal life. Enji, at that time, cleared up about Satoru and Hana's relationship. At first, Enji mocked Satoru about how he is always close with Hana and asked Satoru if he was in a relationship with her.
Then Satoru said that they were only classmates, nothing more than that. Hana didn't say anything further and only agreed with Satoru. But wasn't it obvious that there was something about Hana and Satoru, like more than just classmates? It was pretty obvious even to Sota. That's why Sota, who would always stick around Satoru before, started to talk less with him, and he started to open up to me instead.
Sota's unspoken feelings for Hana were a silent melody, playing softly in the background of our daily lives. He never confessed, never made a grand gesture, but his actions spoke volumes. He was always there, in the shadows, supporting her in ways she never noticed. His love was quiet, patient, and selfless—a silent heart beating for someone who never heard its rhythm.
As time went on, Sota continued to cherish his moments with Hana, no matter how fleeting or insignificant they seemed. He found joy in her laughter, comfort in her presence, and hope in the possibility that one day she might see him the way he saw her. But deep down, he knew that his love might remain unrequited, a silent heart longing for a love that might never be returned.
The corridor buzzed with the usual morning chatter, lockers clanging open and shut as students prepared for the day. I was at my locker, organizing my books, when Sota leaned against the adjacent one, his expression unusually contemplative.
"Hey, Shin," he began, his voice low, "do you think it's obvious that Hana has a crush on Satoru?"
I glanced at him, noting the tension in his posture. "Isn't it obvious? Only a fool wouldn't see it. The way Hana looks at Satoru is the same way you look at her."
He forced a laugh, the sound hollow. "What? What are you talking about? Haha, I never liked her. I was just curious if she still looks at him that way. It's been years now. Why hasn't she given up yet? She hasn't even confessed to him."
His laughter faded, and he looked down, the weight of unspoken feelings pressing on him.
"Aren't you doing the same?" I asked, closing my locker. "What's the difference between you and her? Both of you shine in our circle, but when it comes to matters of the heart, neither of you has the courage to confess. Stop hiding these things from me and from Hana. Confess to her before it's too late. Did you think I wouldn't notice how she's unknowingly drawing you deeper into her world? Sota, I'm not blind."
With that, I walked away, leaving him to his thoughts.
Days passed, and the routine of school life continued. Then, during a Tiffin period, an unexpected scene unfolded. Hana stood at the back of the school, her hands trembling slightly as she held out a box of homemade chocolates to Satoru.
"I know it was never possible," she said, her voice steady despite the vulnerability in her eyes, "but tell me, Satoru, did I do something wrong by confessing my feelings for you after all these years? I just... After years of unchanged feelings, I gathered the courage to come here, to clear my mind, so I wouldn't regret not doing it later." giving the box in his hands.
Satoru looked at her, his expression unreadable. "I never saw you that way," he replied.
Hana offered a faint smile, nodded, and then turned, rushing towards the playground, her figure retreating rapidly.
Sota, who had been standing behind me, witnessing the entire exchange, suddenly bolted, chasing after Hana.
The playground lay bathed in the soft hues of the setting sun, its usual clamor replaced by a hushed stillness. Hana sat alone on the bench, her gaze fixed on the ground, hands clasped tightly in her lap. The air was thick with unspoken words.
Sota approached quietly, offering a tissue without a word. Hana accepted it, her fingers brushing against his, but her eyes remained downcast. He settled beside her, the silence between them stretching, filled with shared understanding.
Time passed unnoticed. The sun dipped lower, casting elongated shadows. Without a word, Sota stood and walked away. Hana didn't look up, lost in her thoughts. Moments later, he returned, carrying two cans of soda and a packet of snacks.
As he extended them to her, Hana finally spoke, her voice barely above a whisper, "Why, why are you doing this to me ? We're not even that close."
Sota sat back down, his expression unreadable. "I thought... after all these years, we were."
She looked at him, eyes glistening. "That's not what I meant. It's just... no one else has ever done something like this for me."
He hesitated, then asked, "Is this the end? Are you giving up on Satoru?"
She didn't give answer .
"If you can't have him and if one day if you move on. Are you willing to give the chance to someone else? " he asked again.
Hana didn't respond immediately. Tears welled up, tracing silent paths down her cheeks. "If someone else can make me feel better than this... maybe I could."
Sota's gaze softened. "What did he do to make you feel this way?"
She sighed, "Satoru is like a gold medal—dazzling, admired, seemingly within reach but never truly attainable. I knew I couldn't have him, but I had to try."
He nodded slowly. "But sometimes, chasing something unattainable means missing what's right in front of you."
She looked at him, searching his face. "What do you mean?"
He stood, offering his hand. "It's getting late. Let's head home."
She took his hand, rising to her feet. "I can go alone."
He smiled gently. "I know. But I'd like to walk with you."
They walked side by side, the silence between them now comfortable, filled with possibilities yet to be explored.
"Don't worry. I'll be fine," Hana said, her voice steadier now, as if she were trying to convince both of them. She stepped ahead, not turning back. "I can't let myself drown in these stupid thoughts. I've got to focus—my dream university won't wait."
Her words floated in the air, firm and determined, yet brittle at the edges.
She paused for a moment, then turned slightly over her shoulder. A small, fragile smile curled on her lips. "So, Sota... you should focus on your studies too. Okay?"
And with that, she walked ahead, her silhouette framed by the fading silver of the moon—head high, shoulders lightened, leaving Sota behind with nothing but the sound of her footsteps and the echo of a goodbye that never needed to be spoken aloud.
He watched her go, his hand still slightly raised, as if to reach for something he knew he would never hold. }
"THEN AUTHOR NIM, ARE THEY TOGETHER NOW? DID THEY HAVE A HAPPY ENDING IN REAL LIFE?" The young women typed, her fingers trembling slightly.
A reply appeared almost instantly:
"NO, THEY DIDN'T."
The scene shifted, transporting us back in time.
After that day, Sota immersed himself in his studies, dedicating every waking moment to his books. He abandoned football, letting go of his dream of attending a sports university. His sole focus was to get into the same university as Hana. When he finally succeeded, he found himself once again in her orbit, always a step behind, watching from a distance. she murmured, her voice barely audible.
Back in high school, after Hana's confession to Satoru was rejected, tensions had risen. Satoru and Sota had a falling out, their friendship strained. Yet, Sota continued to admire Hana silently, never revealing his feelings. In university, it became even more challenging to approach her. There was a brief period when Satoru gave Hana a chance, acknowledging her unwavering affection. However, their relationship didn't last, and they eventually parted ways.
Throughout high school and university, Sota remained steadfast, always waiting, always hoping. But...
"BUT?" the girl typed, her curiosity piqued.
"AFTER UNIVERSITY, NOBODY KNOWS WHAT HAPPENED TO HIM. HE VANISHED AS IF HE NEVER EXISTED," came the reply.
"AUTHOR NIM, I WONDER WHY THERE ARE SO MANY OTHER STORIES. WHY DON'T YOU JUST FINISH THE MAIN STORY?" she inquired.
"DEAR DAISY WASN'T DEDICATED TO ONE PERSON. EVERY CHARACTER IS IMPORTANT, AND SO ARE THEIR STORIES," was the response.
"EACH PERSON HAS THEIR OWN STORY. DO THE CHARACTERS KNOW EACH OTHER'S STORIES? IF WE COUNT THE CHARACTERS, THERE ARE QUITE A LOT," she typed.
No answer appeared on the screen. Instead, the scene changed.
We find ourselves in a dimly lit bar. A man in his thirties sits alone, leaning back in his chair. A laptop rests on the table before him, its screen casting a soft glow. He wears a black suit, his messy black hair falling over his forehead. His dark brown eyes stare blankly at the screen.
"I knew everyone in my class. I always knew. But only a few people knew me.
Everyone's story reached to me, even if it wasn't spoken. But the story that never reached anyone was mine," he thought, taking a sip from his glass.
The bar remains silent, the only sound the soft hum of the refrigerator and the occasional clink of ice in a glass. The man continues to sit there, lost in his thoughts, the weight of untold stories pressing down on him.]