Monsoon Romance

The late summer breeze carried the faint scent of jasmine as Aiko and Haruto walked home together, the sky painted in soft shades of orange and pink. Normally, their walks home were filled with laughter and playful banter, but tonight, an unusual silence stretched between them. The rhythmic tapping of their footsteps on the pavement was the only sound breaking the stillness.

Aiko clutched the strap of her bag tighter, her thoughts a tangled mess of emotions. She had spent the entire day trying to push away the memory of what had happened in the art room—the way Haruto had pulled her close, how his hands had lingered just a second too long, and the way his eyes had locked onto hers as if searching for something unspoken. It had only lasted a moment, but that moment had changed everything.

She kept telling herself it was nothing. They had always been close, hadn't they? So why did it feel different this time? Why couldn't she shake this restless feeling inside her?

Beside her, Haruto shoved his hands into his pockets, sneaking a glance at Aiko. She had been quiet all day, and even now, she looked lost in thought, her usual liveliness subdued. He had noticed it ever since that day in the art room.

"You've been spacing out a lot lately," he said, trying to keep his tone light.

Aiko blinked, snapping out of her thoughts. "Huh? Oh… I guess I'm just tired."

Haruto frowned slightly. "You sure? You've been acting weird since—" He paused, rubbing the back of his neck. "Since that day."

Aiko's breath caught in her throat. So he had noticed it too.

"I-It's nothing," she said quickly, forcing a small laugh. "Just overthinking, I guess."

Haruto stopped walking. "Aiko."

She froze.

His voice wasn't teasing this time. It was quiet, serious—too serious. Slowly, she turned to face him.

He hesitated for a moment, as if choosing his words carefully. "Is something bothering you?"

Aiko's fingers curled around the hem of her skirt. She wanted to say no, to brush it off like she always did, but something about the way he was looking at her made it impossible to lie.

"I don't know," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "It's just… things feel different lately."

Haruto let out a slow breath, his gaze flickering away for a moment. "Yeah," he muttered. "I know what you mean."

Aiko looked up at him, surprised. "You do?"

He nodded, his expression unreadable. "I've been thinking a lot too. About us. About…" He trailed off, exhaling sharply as if frustrated with himself. "I don't know how to explain it."

Aiko felt her heartbeat quicken. She wanted to tell him she understood—that she felt it too, this invisible shift between them, this quiet tension that hadn't been there before. But the words felt too heavy, too dangerous.

So instead, she forced a smile. "We're probably just overthinking."

Haruto's eyes flickered with something—disappointment?—before he looked away. "Yeah… maybe."

The cicadas hummed in the background, filling the silence between them. Aiko wanted to say something, anything, to break the tension, but nothing felt right. She wasn't sure what she was more afraid of—that Haruto might not feel the same way, or that he did.

They continued walking, the night air cooling the warmth left by the fading sun. The quiet stretched on until they reached the small bridge that overlooked the river, a place they often stopped to rest. Without thinking, Aiko walked over to the railing, leaning against it as she gazed down at the shimmering water below.

Haruto followed, standing beside her, close enough that their arms nearly touched.

"The festival is coming up soon," he said after a moment. "Are you going with anyone?"

Aiko hesitated before shaking her head. "Not yet. What about you?"

Haruto was quiet for a beat too long. "No. Not yet."

Aiko bit her lip. She wanted to ask if he was waiting for someone. If he was hoping for someone to ask him.

If that someone was her.

But instead, she forced another smile. "I bet the fireworks will be beautiful this year."

Haruto turned to look at her, his expression unreadable. "Yeah. They always are."

Aiko felt her pulse quicken under his gaze. The way he was looking at her now… it wasn't the usual easygoing Haruto she had always known. There was something different in his eyes—something deeper, something hesitant, as if he was holding back words he wasn't sure he should say.

She wanted to ask him what he was thinking. She wanted to close the distance between them and let the emotions she had been holding back finally spill out.

But fear gripped her.

Fear that if she said the wrong thing, if she acknowledged the way her heart raced around him, then whatever they had would change forever.

So instead, she turned away. "We should get going. It's getting late."

Haruto hesitated but eventually nodded. "Yeah. Let's go."

They walked the rest of the way in silence, the distance between them feeling larger than ever.

As Aiko lay in bed that night, staring at the ceiling, she let out a sigh.

Why was it so hard to say the things that mattered the most?

And why did she feel like if she waited too long, she might lose the chance to say them at all?