The sharp ring of the wall-mounted phone shatters the quiet hum of the office. Yuna, buried in a stack of paperwork, startles and looks up. Her eyes flick across her coworkers, but no one moves. With a sigh, Section Chief Takano rises from her seat and approaches the sleek black phone.
"Yuna, I think someone's calling for you," Takano says, one hand cupping the receiver as she turns toward Yuna.
Yuna tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, sets her pen down, and stands, walking slowly over.
"They didn't give a name," Takano murmurs, handing over the receiver, her eyes curious. "But it sounded urgent."
Yuna picks up the phone, her brows knitting slightly. "Hello?" she says softly, cautious.
A low, hesitant male voice answers. "Hi... is this Yuna?"
The voice stirs something familiar. Then comes a quiet chuckle, slightly hoarse. "Sorry to bother you. I won't take long. Just wondering... do you remember me? I drove you home the other day. Actually, the day before that too."
Yuna blinks, gripping the receiver tighter. A faint memory surfaces—of a man, early thirties perhaps, buzz-cut, sharp but polite. "Yes, I remember. Did I leave something in your cab?"
"Oh, no, nothing like that." He chuckles, awkward yet somehow relieved. "I just wanted to ask if you're going anywhere today. I thought maybe I could give you a lift. You seemed tired the last time, so..."
"That's kind of you, but I don't have any plans today. And I wouldn't want to trouble you." Her tone is gentle, polite but distant.
"It's no trouble, really," he insists quickly, before his voice drops to a teasing drawl. "Actually, I was wondering if you needed any... 'special service'? Like a personal ride home, or maybe just someone to talk to."
That's enough.
Yuna tunes him out. Her eyes flick to Takano, who's watching from a distance, head tilted in quiet amusement. Yuna turns away slightly, lowering her gaze.
"I'm fine, really. But thank you," she says, trying to sound grateful.
"You're the nicest customer I've ever had. If you ever need anything, just give me a call," he says, half-joking, half-sincere. But Yuna's had enough. She hangs up, hand still gripping the cool receiver. No goodbyes. No promises. Just a heavy silence. What does this man really want? She doesn't care to find out.
A warm hand lands gently on her shoulder.
"Was that someone you know?" comes Takano's voice.
"No," Yuna replies quickly. She turns to face her. Takano's hand drops away, folding across her chest.
"Just the cab driver I've been using lately. My husband's been busy."
Takano purses her lips, swaying slightly with interest. Yuna, on the other hand, clutches her hands to her chest, unsettled.
"Let me guess. He offered to drive you home again, didn't he?"
"Not exactly... well, yes." Yuna looks away, flustered. "But I'd rather take the train. Taxis are expensive and—"
"And you meet creeps like that."
Yuna nods, half-laughing at the awkward truth. Takano's concern, though warm, makes her feel oddly vulnerable.
"Still, commuting at night can be a bit unsafe," Takano adds, glancing across the room. "Don't you and Mamoru-kun know each other? Wouldn't it be safer to go home together?"
Yuna follows her gaze. Hiroki is focused on his screen, long hair falling over his eyes, hiding his face completely. She murmurs a vague assent, but the suggestion stirs something uneasy in her.
The last time they really spoke was before her wedding. For the first year working together, she kept her distance, hiding the truth. They remain 'friends'—but the term has lost its weight. The moment she announces she's married, an invisible wall grows taller between them. Now, the relationship hangs in limbo, unspoken and undefined.
Is she slowly disconnecting from everyone around her? But what has she done wrong?
Those questions haunt her for the rest of the afternoon. Her focus wanes until Takano finally comes over.
"Yuna, what's going on with you today?" she asks, arms crossed.
Yuna massages her temple, her fatigue evident. "Sorry, I'm working on it."
Takano's gaze is sharp but not unkind. "Yuna, talk to me if something's bothering you."
"I'm fine..."
"Liar. It's written all over your face."
"I swear I'm fine..."
"Come on," she says, leaning in and softening her voice. "Break's almost here. You know I care about you, right?"
Yuna hesitates. Takano has a way of seeing right through her. That makes her a little scary—but also the one person Yuna can sometimes confide in. Reluctantly, she nods.
"It's about my husband..." Yuna admits. She fidgets with her pen, dropping it repeatedly. Takano leans back against her desk, arms folded, thoughtful.
"Married life, huh? That's normal. Young couples always hit rough patches."
A rough patch? But she and Ryusei never fight. Their views mostly align.
"Want some wisdom from your thirty-five-year-old senpai?" Takano teases.
Yuna smiles faintly. "It's not a fight or anything. He's just... been busy lately."
"I see." Takano rubs her chin dramatically. "Young people these days—always swamped. If communication breaks down too long, though, it creates distance."
"Distance, huh..."
"My hubby's a sweetheart, but I told him early on—no bottling things up. Say it. We'll deal with it together."
Yuna lowers her gaze, smiling awkwardly. "You're lucky. I don't think I'm that brave."
"It's not luck," Takano replies coolly. "If you want something, you'll find a way. If not, you'll find an excuse."
Yuna sighs, resting her chin in her hand.
Is there a reason for her hesitation? Her love hasn't changed—but maybe life has. Even when Ryusei seems overwhelmed or weary, she never finds the courage to speak up.
So is it life's fault? His fault? Or... hers?
"He's not busy every day of the year, is he?" Takano goes on. "If there's still love, then this is just a phase. Come over sometime if home gets lonely. My kid's birthday's coming up—I'm inviting a few people."
"Huh...?" Yuna blinks.
Takano smiles warmly, patting her shoulder. "Seriously. I care about you most out of everyone here. Come hang out. We'll talk."
Yuna feels a warmth bloom inside her—a mix of reluctance and gratitude. They've worked together since before Takano was even promoted. Now, despite the hierarchy, she's Yuna's closest friend at work.
Takano's philosophy is simple: friendship knows no rank. And maybe, just maybe, that's the kind of presence Yuna needs most right now.
She pauses for a moment, then smiles gratefully at her supervisor.
"I'd love to join everyone."
"Perfect," Takano says, patting her on the shoulder. "I've been waiting for you too, Yuna."
"Waiting... for what, exactly?"
"Your baby's birthday, of course! You two have been married for a while now and still no little one?" Takano glances around theatrically before leaning in, cupping her mouth. "Tell me, have you two been... intimate lately?"
Yuna jerks back in surprise, her face flushing instantly as a flicker of panic crosses her eyes. She looks away quickly—only to catch Takano's teasing grin.
That's way too personal...
"Please, don't be like that."
"Alright, alright, I get it."
….
The evening air is sharp and cold.
A gentle wind brushes past the dimly lit streetlamps. The echo of train wheels carries through the still platform, interrupted now and then by the low hum of a train gliding by. On the concrete ground, neon lights cast sharp reflections like ghostly lines.
Yuna stands by the cold stainless steel wall, faint light casting a bluish hue on her long hair. She doesn't seem in a rush. Instead, her eyes linger on the darkness beyond the station's glass wall. Her reflection, slightly fogged by her own breath, looks back at her.
It's cold. She rubs her hands together and brings them to her mouth for warmth, shoulders instinctively hunching.
Staring at her own reflection, she lets out a small laugh without reason. The platform is quiet—just a few blurry figures pass by like phantoms. Then the PA system crackles to life, the soft voice of an announcer echoing overhead:
"Attention passengers: the JR Osaka Line will arrive at Platform 3 in approximately ten minutes. This train will stop at Shin-Osaka, Kyobashi, and Osaka."
A brief pause, then another message:
"Please note that this train will not stop at Umeda Station. Kindly check your itinerary and prepare to board. Thank you for using our service. The train will depart on time. Have a pleasant evening."
Maybe it's just her, or maybe it's the voice of the announcer—but Yuna always hears a trace of weariness in it.
She steps into the train with the others. The doors slide closed behind them, and silence settles over the cabin.
She chooses a seat near the door. Everyone else remains still, some whispering in hushed tones.
At the far end of the bench sits a man, head bowed as if asleep. Yuna considers resting too—but quickly dismisses the idea. The next station is just twenty minutes away. She waits silently.
After glancing twice at the man, she realizes his appearance is strikingly familiar. More than that—she knows who it is. Her certainty grows the moment she notices the long blond hair, the tall, slender frame.
Hiroki is on this train.
Just like her, he seems worn out, drifting in the relentless spin of daily life. They share more coincidences than she's ever realized—same high school, same company, same office... and now, the same night train.
The journey draws to its end.
The wheels clack rhythmically over the tracks, like the steady heartbeat of Osaka's sleeping city. Through the window, Yuna sees low buildings and flickering streetlights, glowing like scattered stars in the dark. It feels different from taking a taxi—wider, clearer, more vivid. The city unfolds before her eyes, not framed by a tiny car window.
Then the announcement comes again, slicing through her thoughts:
"Now approaching Shin-Osaka Station. Please gather your belongings. Thank you for choosing our service."
The train slows. The wheel noises grow uneven. Outside, Shin-Osaka's lights brighten, yet the atmosphere remains hushed. A blinking sign reads "Shin-Osaka," glowing red like a silent call.
The doors open with a quiet chime. Cold air rushes in. Yuna stands, flinching slightly from the chill as she picks up her bag. Her eyes drift to the sleeping man.
Hiroki hasn't moved. His head still hangs low.
For a moment, she hesitates. Should she wake him? He's right there, fast asleep. Peaceful. Quiet. Everyone else has already stepped off, leaving just the two of them in the car.
She bends down slightly, hands on her knees, and speaks softly:
"Hiroki. Hey… wake up."
He doesn't react. She gently taps his shoulder.
"This is the last stop. Come on, time to go home, Hiroki."
"Hiroki... Hiroki—"
Suddenly, he stirs. His head snaps up, eyes wide open, dark circles visible under them. He looks at her as if waking from a dream. "...Yuna?"
A conductor peeks into the car, checking for stragglers. His expression shifts to surprise when he spots them. "Excuse me, passengers—please disembark. We're about to finish for the night."
Yuna gives the conductor a small nod, then turns back to Hiroki with a faint smile.
"It's time. Let's get off together."
He lets out a tired sigh.
"...Yeah."
The frigid winter air bites even harder as Yuna and Hiroki step out of the small train station. The neighborhood is unusually quiet, the only sound echoing off the stone-paved road is the rhythmic tapping of their footsteps as they head toward Yuna's apartment.
They turn into a narrow alley tucked within the city's heart. Here, towering buildings give way to rows of modest two- and three-story houses. Hiroki walks slightly behind, hands tucked into his pockets, his eyes focused on the tips of his shoes. He knows this route well enough, having walked it a few rare times before.
"No matter how many layers I wear, I can't seem to get warm," Yuna mutters into the air, her voice mingling with the frost. She hugs herself, rubbing her arms for warmth.
Hiroki glances up at her back. He pauses before speaking, tone steady. "You should wear another sweater under your company uniform."
"Yeah, I was thinking about it. All my winter stuff is still packed away in the storage closet." They walk on. It feels oddly difficult to find something to say. She's too tired to make conversation, and Hiroki is… well, Hiroki. Still, she tries to keep the winter topic going.
"By the way, you really can't survive winter without a heater. That humble apartment of yours needs one."
"I already have a kotatsu* in the living room," he replies.
(*) Kotatsu: a low table with a special futon (or shitagake) placed over it, and an electric heater is attached beneath
"But it's freezing at night, isn't it?" she teases, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Haven't you gotten used to sleeping alone by now?"
Hiroki says nothing. He looks away. Yuna lets the silence return. The steps they take down the familiar road grow oddly heavy.
That's just how Hiroki always is—distant, reserved. He avoids confrontation, letting things slip away before they can take root. Even with friends. Even with family.
They arrive at her place. The walls bear traces of old rain, giving the building a weathered charm. She looks up at the small balcony with the black iron railing wrapped in vines. From there, a faint light glows from a room on the second floor—her husband's, perhaps.
A sudden breeze stirs the wind chime on the porch, its clear notes slicing through the stillness.
Ryusei? Is he home already?
Hiroki watches as she fumbles in her bag for her keys.
"Thanks for walking me back," she says, her voice soft but comforting in the cold.
"Yeah."
She unlocks the door with a twist and pulls it open.
"The train and walk back took longer than I thought. Sorry to drag you along. It's just… I didn't feel safe walking alone." She remembers the taxi driver from the other day. Just the thought of ending up in another ride like that sends a shiver down her spine. Glancing back, Hiroki is still there, just watching her.
They stand like that for a moment, separated by the open doorway yet held in an awkward silence.
"Bye," Hiroki says.
"See you," Yuna replies, the words hanging gently in the air. He gives a slight nod, eyes lingering on her face before turning to leave.
His footsteps echo softly on the stone road—slow, hesitant, but unchanging.
Yuna turns, her gaze drifting to the second-floor window. She freezes.
Behind the glass, a shadow stands motionless.
Her eyes widen, breath catching in her throat.
The room's interior light spills out faintly, casting the figure into eerie obscurity. It's not a ghost from her past—it's Ryusei. Her husband.
He stands still, staring at the street where Hiroki has just disappeared.
A gust of wind flutters the chime again.
Yuna tightens her grip on her keys and steps through the door, leaving behind only darkness and a lingering weight in the quiet.