It was December 30. The morning air was faintly cold, the skies a constant dull gray, and a soft silence had blanketed the neighborhood ever since the winter break started. Inside her neatly kept room, Miyazaki sat at her study desk by the window, a small space heater humming beside her feet.
She turned the page of her math workbook with a small sigh, eyes skimming over the formulas she'd already memorized. A cup of warm cocoa sat beside her untouched, its steam fading slowly as the minutes ticked on. Her pencil twirled in her fingers aimlessly before she rested her chin on her palm.
She wasn't absorbing anything. Not today.
It was already the end of the year, and yet, her heart was still tethered to something that happened days ago. She leaned back in her chair, glancing at the faint reflection of herself in the window. Her cheeks were slightly flushed.
December 25. Christmas Day.
She hadn't planned anything grand—nothing dramatic or over-the-top. But when she received that unexpected invitation from Jousuke...
Her hand lightly gripped the pencil as her thoughts wandered. The café lights were dim, festive but gentle. She remembered how he had waited for her at the table—alone—with that familiar, gentle smile that always made her forget how to breathe for a second.
Miyazaki shut her eyes, heart fluttering at the memory. The way he said her name.
"Miyazaki-san."
She covered her face with both hands at the memory, trying to shake off the overwhelming warmth that surged in her chest.
That moment—it was just the two of them. She had walked through the snow with uncertainty, her heart pounding so loudly she was afraid it might echo across the empty street. She remembered clutching the gift in her coat pocket, the one she made, only to hand it over in the most awkward, hurried way.
"Don't... Don't get the wrong idea, okay? It's just a scarf."
She buried her face deeper into her hands. How embarrassing.
How painfully honest she must've looked. But even then, he accepted the gift without laughing. Instead, he looked surprised for a moment. Genuinely surprised. Then... that smile again.
"Thank you, Miyazaki-san."
No teasing. No awkwardness. Just a boy accepting her feelings without words.
Her gaze fell to her desk. Her open workbook remained untouched, numbers and equations blurring together.
She rested her cheek on her folded arms, smiling faintly.
"Daikuhara-kun..." she whispered.
Even saying his name under her breath made her stomach flip. It wasn't like her at all to get this flustered. She wasn't a child. She wasn't supposed to get this wrapped up over one afternoon. But everything about that day clung to her senses—the quiet snowfall outside, the way his voice softened when he spoke to her, how he sat there with no rush, like he wanted to hear every word she said.
Did he know? How much she tried to hide it, yet failed every time their eyes met?
She turned in her chair, slowly leaning back to look up at the ceiling. Her heart wouldn't calm down. She had seen him countless times before—at school, during student council meetings, on the rooftop with friends—but that day was different. That day, it felt like he saw her. Just her.
Her phone buzzed gently on the desk. A class group chat. She ignored it. Not even her favorite drama could pull her away from this reverie.
She picked up her pen again, twirling it thoughtfully.
"What if he noticed...?" she murmured.
It terrified her. But at the same time, she wished he did.
No one else mattered at that moment. She didn't even think about anyone or anything. The thought never crossed her mind. There was only one person whose voice echoed in her head. Only one person whose presence lingered.
Jousuke.
She stood up and walked toward the window, arms wrapping around herself as she stared out at the quiet neighborhood. Snow clung to the tree branches like powdered sugar. A soft breeze rattled the nearby wind chime.
Would he remember it the same way she did? Or was it just another quiet evening to him?
She sighed.
"Idiot... why do you have to smile like that..."
She smiled, too, shyly, cheeks warm despite the cold outside. It wasn't the usual pout or defensive comment she'd throw at him when flustered. Today, there was no tsundere mask. Just Kaede Miyazaki, a girl standing by her window, falling a little deeper.
Back at her desk, she tried to study again.
One line into the next equation, her pencil stopped.
She drew a small heart in the corner of the paper.
And beside it: Jousuke Daikuhara.
She quickly erased it, hiding her face in her arm again.
This feeling—it wouldn't go away.
Maybe she didn't want it to.