The hospital corridor was quiet except for the steady beep of monitors and the soft squeak of shoes on linoleum.
Haruka stood outside the glass window of the pediatric ICU, white coat unbuttoned, braid slightly undone. She hadn't moved in twenty minutes.
Inside the room, the seven-year-old boy Sora slept peacefully under soft blue lights. Dark hair fanned across the pillow. The same gray eyes as Kaito when closed. The same gentle curve to his mouth as hers when he smiled.
Kaito stood beside her close enough to feel his warmth, far enough that they didn't touch.
Neither had spoken since the revelation in the observation room.
Finally, Haruka's voice barely above a whisper.
"He has your eyes."
"And your smile," Kaito answered, voice rough.
She turned to him. Tears she'd held for eight years threatened to fall.
"Why didn't you come back?"
"I tried." He looked down at scarred hands. "After the fire… my hands were burned. Therapy for years. My mother blamed your family. Said if I contacted you, they'd finish what the fire started. I believed her. I thought staying away kept you safe."
Haruka closed her eyes. "I waited at that station until morning. Then I waited nine months alone. When he was born… I couldn't give him the life he deserved. Not with the rumors, the grief, the scandal."
Kaito's jaw tightened. "You gave him up."
"I gave him a chance," she corrected softly. "A family who could love him without shadows."
Silence stretched heavy with everything unsaid.
Then a small voice from inside the room.
"Doctor-neechan?"
Sora was awake, sitting up, rubbing eyes.
Haruka wiped her face quickly and entered, Kaito hesitating before following.
"Hi, Sora-kun," she said, voice warm again the voice that calmed terrified children every day. "How are you feeling?"
"Better. The pretty music man is here too?" Sora looked past her at Kaito with open curiosity.
Kaito froze.
Haruka glanced back eyes pleading.
Kaito stepped forward, knelt by the bed so they were eye-level.
"I… heard you like piano," he said awkwardly.
Sora's face lit up. "Do you play?"
Kaito nodded.
"Will you play for me when I get better?"
Kaito's throat worked. "Every day if you want."
Sora grinned and in that smile, both Haruka and Kaito saw their summer eight years ago.
Later hospital rooftop at night. Tokyo lights sprawling below like fallen stars.
They stood side by side, not touching.
"I funded this wing anonymously," Kaito said quietly. "Because it was heart children. Because… I thought if I saved even one, it might balance what I lost."
Haruka hugged her arms. "I became a surgeon because I couldn't save the one heart that mattered most. Ours."
He turned to her. "I never stopped loving you, Haruka. Not for one day."
She looked up autumn eyes shimmering. "I never stopped either. But love wasn't enough then. Is it enough now?"
He reached out slowly, giving her time to pull away.
She didn't.
His fingers brushed her cheek gentle, reverent.
"I don't know," he whispered. "But I want to find out. With you. With him."
Haruka leaned into his touch just slightly.
Inside the hospital, Sora slept dreaming of piano music under summer stars he'd never seen.
On the rooftop, two broken hearts began very carefully to beat in the same rhythm again.