Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Hold, please!” The director’s loud voice interrupted the act, and everyone present froze in place, waiting for the upcoming comments. “Himekawa-san, try to add more subtle bitterness. In this scene, Martha finds out that Karen and Joe finally made a decision on their marriage. Karen wants Joe to go on vacation with them this time, there needs to be more than just disappointment."

The Children’s Hour. A tragic story about a single lie that ruined the lives of two women running an all-girls boarding school. Daito Art proposed the idea of reuniting two prominent stars on the same stage, aiming to reignite public interest in their rivalry, which had waned over time. However, for Ayumi, the company's promotional campaign was of little concern. Her sole focus was the opportunity to share the stage with Maya once more."

“One more time. Kitajima-san, start from the previous line.” The director waved a copy of the script, giving permission for the actresses to begin.

Ayumi took a deep breath, channeling her emotions, preparing to continue the rehearsal. From the very first rehearsal, she couldn’t brush away this slight discomfort that her character Martha was giving her. For the first time in Ayumi’s life, the character was getting under her skin so deeply, that the line between her own emotions and a play was getting thinner with each line.

According to the story, Martha and Karen were two inseparable friends, united by a shared ambition that they worked tirelessly to achieve.  Together, they made their dream a reality. However, just when they were on the cusp of achieving their happily ever after, a young girl spread the lie about an intimate relationship between the two of them. In the midst of this chaos, Martha is forced to confront her own feelings for Karen, only to discover that they would not be reciprocated.

“We’ll get married as soon as the term ends. We’ll be out of debt by then, and school will be paying for itself. And Joe’s found a house. We’ll all go and look at it tomorrow,” Maya quoted Karen’s lines, smiling at Ayumi as if this was the happiest day of her life.

“So soon?” Ayumi let out a sigh, following her part of the script. She clenched the hem of her shirt between her fingers, yet she forced a weak smile on her lips. “Then we won’t go on vacation together?”

Ayumi couldn’t say where this feeling was coming from, but the annoying pressure in her chest continued to grow. It wasn’t her life. She never planned any vacations with Maya, and yet she mourned this failed opportunity.

The idea of actually being alike with Martha was ridiculous. Maya was her rival. Even though Ayumi supported Maya in the shadows and she kept a close eye on her progression, there was never a close bond between them.. Still, she always had that unspoken desire to share the stage with Maya again and again.

“Of course we will.” Maya chuckled, taking Ayumi’s hand in hers. Her eyes looked at Ayumi with joy, but there was also a tint of fear. “The three of us.”

Ayumi paused, unconsciously squeezing Maya’s warm hand. At this very moment, something changed in Maya’s gaze. There was anxiety now, as if Ayumi’s sudden gesture had left her confused. Ayumi blinked, regaining her composure, before the director interrupted them.

“I guess I had taken it for granted that it was going to be as it always was. Just you and me." Ayumi pulled her hand out of Maya’s hold and looked away. Her fingers flexed, trying to grasp the dissipating warmth of Maya’s hand.  

A thought of actually sharing Maya with someone crawled in the back of her mind from the abyss she didn’t know existed there. A delusion, no less. There had to be a logical explanation, but it could wait. For now, she had to simply act on this feeling for the sake of the performance.

“Why haven’t you told me this before?” Ayumi’s voice was filled with bitter notes as she briefly closed her eyes, seemingly suppressing some inner turmoil.

The air in the room has changed, becoming viscous with an unexpected tension. Maya’s lines didn’t follow, and the pause lasted longer than it should have. Glancing at her rival from the corner of her eye, Ayumi bit the inner side of her cheek. Maya seemed lost and confused, looking for the right words to answer Martha's question, but she remained silent, as if the lines had slipped away from her memory.

“We only decided the other night…” Maya’s voice came weak, filled with guilt and regret.

A few more lines were supposed to follow, but Maya didn’t say a word. Ayumi would never believe that her rival would forget her lines or be distracted; whatever this was, she had to push Maya out of this stupor. Whether they were rehearsing or not, there was no room for vulnerability on stage; any personal issues had to be pushed aside.

“You really are going to leave?” Ayumi quickly picked up her next line, breaking the script flow in an effort to give Maya an opportunity to continue.

“I’m... I’m not going to leave,” Maya quoted her lines hesitantly, slowly losing her grasp of Karen and dropping her mask once again on stage. “We agreed…”

“Hold! What was that, Kitajima-san?” The director asked, pinching the bridge of his nose. He dropped the script on a nearby chair, and waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. “Fine. Enough for today. We’ll try this scene again tomorrow.”

“As expected,” Ayumi murmured under her breath, brushing her hair back with her hand. With a brief glance, she noticed Maya’s awkward posture, as she headed towards the exit.

“What’s wrong with you, Maya?” Ayumi thought to herself, carefully watching her rival, trying to read her body language. 

 “Himekawa-san!” A cheerful voice came from behind Ayumi, forcing her to switch her attention. The young girl who was cast as one of the kids waved cheerfully as she walked towards Ayumi. “Your acting was so emotional! You hardly even need any rehearsals.”

“Thank you,” Ayumi answered with a polite nod. “However, no matter how good an actor is, they still need to practice with the troupe. We must gain trust and learn to understand each other; otherwise, the audience won’t see a play as a whole, complete piece.”

“I’ve never thought about it,” the girl answered with a quiet hum. “You work so hard.” She slightly turned her head and glanced in Maya’s direction. “It’s so sad that not everyone shares your approach.”

“Indeed,” Ayumi said, perfectly understanding what the young actress was trying to imply. “Rather than focusing on improving one’s own performance, some individuals take pleasure in gloating over the mistakes of others. It's a pity.”

“I didn’t mean…!” The girl appeared visibly distressed, her hands trembling as she attempted to disavow her distasteful remark.

With a barely noticeable, satisfied smirk, Ayumi excused herself. There were more important things to do than deal with an arrogant amateur who craved her approval. The mystery behind Maya’s sudden lapse in performance had to be solved, but moreover, Maya was about to face some consequences for this mistake during rehearsal.

Ayumi quickly made her way out of the room, determined to catch up with Maya. A feeling of unease settled in her chest as she thought about how toxic life was in the acting world. Her family name was like a shield, and no one would insult her directly, but Maya was always an easy target for people to try and destroy. She hurried through the narrow hallway, finally catching sight of her rival at the end of the corridor.

The chase led Ayumi to the changing room, which was a sanctuary of hushed whispers and muffled rustlings of clothing. The air was thick with the scent of perfume and sweat, a mixture that often lingered in theater dressing rooms.  The hum of the voices could be heard even from the hallway, and it became even louder when Maya walked in.

The murmurs and whispers died as soon as Ayumi stepped inside. There was no need to think hard to figure out what they were gossiping about, and the sudden silence only proved Ayumi’s assumptions. The rest of the troupe stiffened as she glared at everyone present; they all instantly turned back minding their own business. Her gaze lingered on Maya, who sat at the farthest bench, resting her joined hands on her knees and biting her lower lips.

“Maya,” Ayumi called out, walking closer to her rival, her voice cutting through the quiet noise of the room. A surprise flickered in Maya’s eyes as she looked up at Ayumi before quickly averting her gaze.

“Ayumi-san…” Maya answered; her voice was barely audible. She shifted on the bench, a nervous energy emanating from her as she avoided meeting Ayumi’s eyes. “I will work harder tomorrow.”

“What happened?” Ayumi questioned her; her voice was firm yet filled with genuine concern. She couldn’t fully show her worry as the eyes of all their fellow actors remaining in the room were on them, and did not want to give them more reasons to gossip.

“I’m not sure,” Maya murmured, clenching her fingers tighter. “I got distracted...”

“It doesn’t sound like you at all.” Ayumi frowned, trying to make as much sense of Maya’s words as she could. Barely anything could distract this young woman from acting, and even if her grasp of the role wasn’t perfect yet, it was hard to imagine her stumbling over a few lines. “Is something the matter?”

“Ah, don’t worry, Ayumi-san.” Maya finally raised her head, apologetically smiling at Ayumi, yet this smile never reached her eyes. “I just have too many thoughts about this role. That’s all. What kind of person is Karen?”

Ayumi studied Maya's face, searching for any sign of what was truly troubling her. Maya's eyes held a flicker of something deeper, a shadow that danced just out of reach. There was something Maya couldn’t discuss with the witnesses around her or didn’t want to discuss with her personally, but Ayumi wished to test the limits of her luck.

“There are not too many interpretations of this play.” As the rest of the troupe began to filter out of the changing room, leaving Ayumi and Maya alone, Ayumi took a seat next to her troubled rival. “Karen is a nice person who loves her fiancé and her friend almost equally, but due to many reasons, she can’t even see Martha’s struggling.”

“Can’t she?” Maya sighed, looking at Ayumi with a shade of sorrow in her eyes. “How can someone be so oblivious? Maybe she sees it, but prefers to ignore it or lies to herself that what they have with Martha is simply a friendship. She can be a cruel person…”

“There are no limits to people’s blindness when it comes to feelings.” Ayumi smiled, closing her eyes for a moment, and then reached out, laying her hand atop Maya’s. “I’m certain that she isn’t a bad person; as for the rest, we will find out when you reveal your Karen to the world.”

“A-Ayumi-san?” Maya blurted out in surprise, as a pinkish tint crawled up on her cheeks. She parted her lips as if she wanted to say something else, but no words came out.

Ayumi’s heart skipped a beat at the sight of such a reaction. She couldn’t recall seeing Maya so flustered before. Her rival’s blushing stirred an unexpected desire inside Ayumi. Her eyes traced a subtle flush, meeting the curve of Maya's lips. For a split second, her own lips tingled with an odd urge—a phantom sensation that sent a jolt of panic through her body.

It wasn't the first time that Ayumi caught herself admiring different sides of Maya, her talent the most, but this was the first time her thoughts strayed towards the territory she avoided venturing into. The jigsaw puzzle of her reсent emotions finally clicked into place, causing a rush of blood to her cheeks. As the warmth spread through her face, Ayumi squeezed Maya's hand reassuringly, feeling a slight tremor running through her fingers.

The sound of approaching steps behind the door brought Ayumi back from her bewilderment. After a short, shy knock, the door opened with a quiet creak, and a young man shoved his head into an opening.

“Is Maya still here?” The man asked hesitantly, opening the door further.

“Sakurakoji-kun?!” Maya nervously jumped up, slipping her hand away from Ayumi’s.

“I’ve been waiting for you, but you never came out.” The man explained, slightly flinching, meeting Ayumi’s gaze. “I thought maybe you'd want to walk to the station together.”

 “I…” Maya fell silent. Maya hesitated, her gaze flickering between Ayumi and Sakurakoji, as if she was a puppy that was meant to choose its favorite human.

“Go ahead.” Ayumi smiled, feeling a certain irony in this situation. Casted as Joe, Sakurakoji Yu had to be present at the rehearsals, but right now, of all the people she expected to see him the least, She could come up with an excuse to keep Maya here, but seeing Maya’s reaction, it obviously wasn’t the best idea.

“I’m sorry, Ayumi-san.” With a short bow, Maya hurried to gather her belongings, seeming to be trying to leave faster. She offered a small apologetic smile to Ayumi before stepping past Sakurakoji and out of the changing room.

Alone in the now-empty room, Ayumi let out a heavy sigh as she leaned back against the bench. The momentary spark of newly discovered feeling still lingered within her, and as she closed her eyes, she could almost feel Maya's warm hand in hers again. She knew that it was foolish to indulge herself for even a second, yet her mind couldn’t let go of a memory of Maya's blushing face.

“Every time that man comes into the house, you are in bad humor,” Ayumi sarcastically quoted the line from the script that called Martha out on her jealousy. “Is it even worth trying to deny the truth?”

Chapter Text

The cold evening air was a welcome sensation on Maya’s face. The changing room was far behind, yet her heartbeat didn’t slow down at all. Clenching the strap of her bag, she tried to cease the tremor in her hands, yet it didn’t help. The world around her was blank and empty, as she walked along the street, relying on pure instinct, trapped in the web of her own thoughts.

Blood rushed to Maya’s cheeks as she recalled the awkward silence she shared with Ayumi before being interrupted. At that moment, her skin had tingled under the warmth of Ayumi’s hand, stealing every single thought from her brain. The same sensation that took her aback at rehearsal, which awoke an unknown feeling, that yet didn’t have a name.

“Maya…Maya!” Sakurakoji called his stage partner, grabbing her shoulder. “It’s a red light.”

“Eh?” Maya flinched as a car flashed right before her at high speed. She smiled absently, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Sorry.”

“Are you alright? Sakurakoji let go of Maya's shoulder once he saw that she had returned to the present moment. "You seem distracted today. Is something the matter?”

“I’m fine, really.” Maya shook her head, glancing at the traffic light. “A bit tired, that’s all.”

“I have known you for years, Maya.” Sakurakoji sighed. “I can see something is bothering you. You are often up in the clouds, but not like this.”

“It’s just…” Maya fell silent. Sakurakoji meant well, and she didn't want to deceive him, but how could she explain her feelings when she couldn't even comprehend them herself? “This play is harder than I expected.”

The traffic light changed to green, and Maya hurried to cross the street. She felt like running away, using an excuse to avoid this conversation, and no one could say if it was the right choice or not.

“You can talk to me.” Sakurakoji caught up with Maya on the other side of the street. “I can listen you out if it helps.”

“Maybe I should step down from this role,” Maya mumbled, stopping in her tracks and causing Sakurakoji to do the same. It was a shameful idea that scratched the back of Maya’s mind like a stray cat on a locked door. She refused to let it in, but it was there, reminding her of its existence over and over. 

“What?!” Sakurakoji blurted out in surprise. “Why?”

“I can’t play this role.” Maya closed her eyes and took a deep breath. The thought was a bit selfish, and it sounded ridiculous even in her head. But it was the truth. She had been feeling uncomfortable during rehearsals, and it was getting harder to ignore. “I can’t stand on stage with Ayumi-san when I can’t even connect with my character.”

“Calm down.” Sakurakoji reluctantly rested his palm on Maya’s shoulder. “Let’s take a seat,” he offered, pointing out the nearby bus stop.

The silence hung between them as no one knew what to say. Maya stared at the passing cars and people, hurrying to their unknown destinations. Maya shivered, the evening air was cold and she had to rub her arms to keep herself warm. She didn’t know where to start. These uncertain feelings were too vague and confusing to convey into words. Maybe it wasn’t even about the role, and she simply chose to blame it for all her troubles.

“I know I shouldn’t think like that,” Maya said, breaking the silence. “But when I see Ayumi-san’s hurt expression, I can’t keep acting. On the stage, she is Martha, yes, but I still don’t want to hurt her.”

When did this even start? Maya was so happy the day she learned that they would be on the same stage with Ayumi again. She was ready to give her best and stand as equal with her rival, yet with each rehearsal, it was getting harder. Each scene between Karen and Martha became like  personal hell for Maya. Ayumi’s performance was beautiful and heartbreaking, but also painful to watch. Each time they were getting into emotional scenes, Maya couldn’t help but notice some subtle change in Ayumi’s performance.

“Himekawa-san?” Sakurakoji asked carefully. “It’s like you said, it’s part of the play..” 

“I know.” Maya shook her head. Her thoughts were a mess, and she struggled to get them in order. “But some of her emotions are not just an act .”

“Himekawa-san is a great actress.” Sakurakijo shrugged. “The audience will hold their breath for as long as she wants.  While acting, she controls her emotions, and what you saw has nothing to do with reality.”

“I don’t think so.” Maya's voice wavered as she responded. She lowered her eyes, not expecting Sakurakoji to understand her. He saw Ayumi only as an actress, like everyone else, but Maya saw more than the perfect public façade Ayumi displays. “I can feel it. Something is off.”

Maya fell silent and let out a short groan. She recalled the soft smile on Ayumi’s lips that melted her worries, yet it also stole away every word she knew. It was not the first time Maya saw her rival smiling, yet for the first time she noticed how gently and soft it can be. The warmth of Ayumi’s touch and the sound of her voice echoed in Maya's memory, bringing a light, fluttery feeling to her chest.

“It’s not about the role at all, isn’t it?” Sakurakoji asked, looking up at the dark sky. No stars were shining through the city lights, but the full moon was up there somewhere.

The question startled Maya. She had always admired Ayumi's skills as an actress and respected her as a rival, but she never thought that there could be more. Her heart would beat faster, and her palms would grow sweaty whenever she would see Ayumi. The longing grew whenever there was no opportunity to see her rival, while the deepest sadness would be drawn away at a single news story about Ayumi’s achievements.

They were destined to compete for the role of a Scarlet Goddess, but the more time Maya spent around Ayumi, the clearer she saw the real person behind the perfect image. Ayumi stood proudly on the pedestal of her talent, yet she was lonely, and no one cared about her true desires and feelings. It was not about rivalry anymore. Maya had to become a better actress, not to surpass her rival, but to stand by Ayumi’s side.

“I see.” Sakurakoji chuckled at Maya's shocked expression, nudging her shoulder in a friendly manner. “Don’t look at me like that. It takes one to know one. I’ve been there once too.”

“With Ayumi-san?” Maya jumped up and looked at Sakurakoji with pure shock, shading her eyes.

“No, no.” Sakurakoji raised his hands, suggesting Maya calm down. “I’m the last person you should be jealous of.”

“I’m not…” Maya blinked several times, as the embarrassing realization hit her like a snowball. There was a small pause before she continued. “I’m not jealous,” Maya repeated to herself, but the more she denied it, the harder it was to ignore these feelings.

All of a sudden, everything seemed to make more sense. The way her heart fluttered every time Ayumi entered the room, the unexplainable urge to hold Ayumi's hand during their scenes together. It was more than just admiration for Ayumi; there was a deeper connection that Maya failed to understand before.

“Maybe a little,” Maya mumbled, turning away to hide her blush. “But how could I not? Ayumi-san is perfect. Beautiful, talented, and smart, and… When she enters the room, all eyes are on her.”

“But they are all scared to approach her,” Sakurakoji said. “You know, there are some… unpleasant rumors about her. I’m sure you heard the stories. It was all over the news when she dated that actor. People are whispering around that she simply took advantage of him.”

“She gave him a chance,” Maya parried with a quiet humph. “It didn’t work out. Though, what could she gain from this? No one even knew about him before this.”

“Maybe it’s just rumors, but you should be cautious.” Sakurakoji stood up, fixing the collar of his coat. “Ayumi’s fortress is impregnable.”

Maya clenched the strap of her bag between her fingers. She didn't want to see it as a competition or a challenge. This wasn't a battle or an audition for the role of Ayumi's significant other; there was no need to outshine other candidates. Ayumi was the one who controlled and let people pass through the defensive walls surrounding her heart, so Maya could only express her feelings and let Ayumi make the decision.

“You know there is another reason why I don’t like ‘The Children’s Hour',” Maya said, noticing a single snowflake falling down from the sky. “None of the characters are honest with each other, not until it’s too late..” She carefully caught the white flake, and it instantly melted on her palm. “I won’t make the same mistake.”

---

The street lights flashed before Ayumi’s eyes, as she rested her head on the window. A quiet, relaxing song played from  the radio, as the engine hummed, her driver speeding through the empty highway.. Ayumi looked up at the pitch black sky, absolutely no stars were visible. She could feel the coldness of the glass, seeping into her skin, and she let out a soft sigh. Feeling drained from a long rehearsal was natural, but never before did Ayumi feel so devastated. A howling void in her chest devoured all her emotions, leaving behind only regret and a tint of despair.

“Should I have asked her to stay?” Ayumi asked herself, closing her eyes. Part of her yelled that it was a mistake, while the other half insisted that it was the right decision. The last thing she wanted to do was force Maya, but her selfish desires still whispered from the depths of her mind that she had to do what was right.

Ayumi had every lever at her disposal to make her wishes come true. By pulling some strings, she could leave Maya no choice but to fall into her embrace, yet it would be akin to admitting her own defeat. Just like a rivalry for the role of Crimson Goddess, this game had to be played fairly, though the chances to win were close to zero.

“ Was it my actions…” As the car continued to speed down the highway, Ayumi's thoughts raced just as fast. The memory of Maya’s shocked eyes flashed in her mind, pushing the weight of doubts on her shoulders. Maya took the first opportunity to escape, as if Ayumi’s very presence wasn’t welcome at all. “Or Maya is scared of me?”

Soon, the car stopped near her house, and Ayumi raised her head. The familiar building loomed in front of her, looking more like a prison cell than a cozy home. Usually, she was happy to be home, where the warm cup of Queen Mary tea always waited for her, but today this simple happiness couldn’t find its way to her soul. Ayumi took a deep breath before opening the door and stepping out of the car. The night air wrapped around her like a cold blanket, sending shivers down her spine.

“Thank you,” Ayumi said to the driver, forcing a light smile on her lips. “Tomorrow at the same time.”

“Yes, ma’am.” The driver nodded. “Have a nice evening.”

The heels clicked against the pavement as Ayumi made her way to the entrance. The door was already open, and a smiling old lady greeted her, sincerely happy for her arrival.

"Welcome back, young mistress," the housekeeper said with a slight bow of her head. "What would you like for dinner?

"I’m not hungry, baaya," Ayumi replied. The words came out flat and emotionless. “I’m too tired today, so I’ll go to bed early.”

“But you didn’t eat properly the whole day,” the housekeeper insisted, looking a bit worried. “Maybe a tea? I made some cookies…”

“Bring it to my room, then.” Ayumi forced another smile, noticing the growing concern in the baaya’s eye. “I’ll have it after myshower.”

Ayumi trudged through the doorway and took off her shoes. Her hands worked mechanically, thought the motion, but her mind was elsewhere. Heading upstairs to her bedroom, she let out a heavy sigh, wondering when this constant ache in her chest would finally go away. She was torn between wanting to forget and wanting to hold on to the memories that continued to linger in her mind.

“Young mistress.” A hesitant voice came from behind, and Ayumi looked over her shoulder at her housekeeper. “Are you alright?”

“Nothing I can’t handle.” Ayumi hummed briefly with a smile before walking away.

Stepping into the bathroom, Ayumi turned the tap on and leaned on the sink, watching the running water. Steam danced in the air, caressing her cheeks, as the white mist fogged up the mirror, hiding her reflection. The memory of the day kept haunting her, and she splashed some water over her face in a vain attempt to wash them away.

“Perhaps it was for the best,” Ayumi murmured, lifting her head to gaze at her blurred reflection. One careless action—and the rumors could ruin both their careers and create a rift between her and Maya. They were rivals in the first place, yet Ayumi’s heart ached at the thought of being rejected. It was safer to keep up her shadow crusade and watch Maya from afar, removing the obstacles from her path to greatness. “Yes, just being around is enough…”

Chapter Text

Maya stood at the stage edge, staring out at the empty rows of seats, her thoughts swirling like autumn leaves caught in a gust of wind. The director stepped into the hall indicating the start of rehearsal. The voices which had filled the room now fell silent. She glanced down at the script in her hands, but the words on the page felt distant, as if the mask of Karen still belonged to someone else.

Her gaze flickered to the side, where Ayumi stood near the curtain, quietly talking to one of the assistants. Even from here, Maya could sense how Ayumi’s presence commanded attention. Every gesture was graceful, every glance calculated. But there was something else too, something Maya couldn’t name—a tension, an undercurrent of emotion that tugged at her, especially when they were together on stage.

Maya had felt it again last week. Whenever they had a contact, Ayumi’s hand had lingered on hers just a heartbeat too long, and each time Maya was on the verge of forgetting that they were on stage. The warmth of Ayumi’s skin against hers, the intensity of her gaze—it was something other than acting, but Maya couldn’t find the courage to confront Ayumi about this.

Maya exhaled slowly, her breath barely audible. She wasn’t ready for another rehearsal, not when her mind was a jumble of emotions she couldn’t quite make sense of. But there was no time to dwell on it. The premiere was right around the corner, and it was too late to leave or ask for another role. All she could do was hope Karen's mask would slip into her hands at the last moment.—the miracle that would save her and the play at once.

A dull thud of footsteps approached, distracting Maya from her thoughts. Maya tensed slightly, recognizing Ayumi’s deliberate pace before even turning to look at her. She pressed the worn-out pages against her chest and glanced up, catching Ayumi’s eyes as she stopped next to her.

“Ready?” Ayumi asked, her voice calm but with a hint of a soft tone underneath, and Maya’s heart raced in a way she couldn’t explain.

“Of course,” Maya replied, though her voice wavered. She hoped Ayumi didn’t notice.

“Lying is not your forte, Maya.” Ayumi shook her head. “While I’m certain you've had the script memorized since the day you received it, you’ve been staring at the same page for ten minutes now. Are you having doubts about your Karen again?”

“I’m not sure…” Maya looked down, breaking eye contact, and flipped through the script “I understand the situation the characters are in. But why does Karen send Joe away? If they got married, as planned, the problem would be solved. He seems to be genuine in his desire to start anew.”

“She believes their lives are ruined, and Joe stays with her only ‘because of pity while in reality he is ashamed.” Ayumi frowned, laying her hand atop Maya’s script and tilting it down to look at the text. “Here.” She pointed at the line. “‘ Go away from me and love and pity, and all the things that mess people up.”

Maya’s fingers twitched as a word, ‘love,’ fell off Ayumi’s lips. She reluctantly raised her gaze, just to see her rival’s concentrated expression as she was trying to read the text upside-down, tucking the lock of her hair behind her ear.

“The lack of trust would haunt them all the time, not to mention that rumors would only take a new tint,” Ayumi continued, unaware of the effect her actions had on Maya. “She is adamant that he won’t come back, so she sets them both free.”

“The logic says so, but there is something else. A fear of some sort.” Maya forced these words out, shaking off the sweet delusion that almost took over her again. “She can’t say it out loud. Not just that…” She suddenly fell silent; her mouth gaped, and her eyes stopped at Ayumi’s face. “Martha is braver...”

“Kitajima, Himekawa!” The director’s voice thundered through the theater hall. “Two minutes! We start from act three!”

“Show me the Karen you’ve found.” Ayumi smiled with understanding before leaving for her spot on the stage.

“I will,” Maya mumbled, crumpling the script pages as they had no more use for her. The answer was so simple. From the very start, Karen looked odd, but one obvious detail kept slipping away from Maya until now. “But how will you react to this?”

---

Ayumi took her place on stage, calming her breathing as the lights dimmed. She watched Maya out of the corner of her eye, taking in the change that had settled over her rival. There was something different in the way Maya held herself. The anxiety from a moment ago has vanished, giving way to newfound confidence. Her usual dedication to the acting seemed to come back, as if she’d finally found the key she was seeking for the month of rehearsing.

As the director gave the signal, Ayumi slipped into the skin of Martha, trying to ignore the fluttering in her chest. The same Maya that once made Ayumi’s heart tremble was finally back, however this wasn’t the time to savor the moment. The beginning of the scene was meant to be gloomy, this sudden joy had to stay separate from her acting.

“ It’s so cold in here,” Ayumi started, walking to the sham stove and bringing her hands closer to it. She briefly glanced at Maya, who sat on the chair near the desk. “What time is it?”

“I don’t know,” Maya answered, laying aside a book and looking at the fake window. “What’s the difference anyway…”

The exchange of script lines between them flowed on smoothly as they proceeded through the scene. By the plot, the rumors spread around the town; Karen and Martha locked themselves from the world, spending days consumed by the routing. The tint of despair was supposed to be in the air, yet Ayumi sensed something else in Maya’s acting. There was something soft and guarded in her gaze. It bloomed with warmth as the lines led them to the memories of Martha and Karen’s college days.

Little by little the mood on the stage shifted. Maya’s Karen seemed to lose herself in the moment, forgetting about the problems that awaited them outside. Shy but genuine happiness seeped in each word, as if she found the moment of peace in this simple conversation with Martha, even though their lives turned into chaos.

Ayumi’s heart stammered as she noticed a faint smile on Maya’s lips. Again, when she thought that she had gotten rid of this nuisance, Ayumi felt how the line between herself and Marth blurred with each passing second. This was just Maya’s vision of Karen, the acting. Ayumi kept repeating it like a prayer over and over in her mind, trying to stay in character until the end of the scene.

“Martha,” Maya’s voice suddenly became quiet and fragile as she lowered her gaze, clenching her fists. “How did it happen? What are we doing here like this? We must leave this place.”

“I don’t know,” Ayumi answered calmly, holding back the desire to run to Maya’s side and take her hand in hers. “But you’re getting married soon. Everything will be all right then.”

“Yeah.” The light in Maya’s eyes ceased to exist, and she looked down at her hand, clenching her fists even tighter. The reminder of the marriage hurt Maya’s Karen more than the rumors and lies circling around them.

“What’s the matter?” Ayumi’s confusion and worry mingled into her lines . “It’ll be a happy day.” She slowly breathed out, taming the unnecessary emotions. “Maybe the happiest one of my life.”

“Nothing.” Maya’s voice was dry and emotionless, while her eyes were fixed on Ayumi.

There were a few more lines Ayumi had to deliver before the other character’s arrival, but she couldn’t force herself to speak. This intense yet empty gaze aimed at her forbade her to breathe. What Maya tried to express here in Karen’s character slipped away from Ayumi’s perception, all she could see was sorrow and a shadow of a silent plea for help.

“Keep it up, Kitajima.” Director’s enthusiastic voice cut the stream of Ayumi’s thoughts. “It’s not exactly what I expected, but I like it. Now…” He checked some notes and exchanged a few words with the assistant. “Apparently our Mrs. Mortar has more important business than the rehearsal. Let’s do the Karen and Joe part. I want to see Kitajima in this scene now.”

Ayumi moved offstage but couldn’t bring herself to go far. The scene they'd just completed lingered in her mind, as she watched Maya from the shadows, still feeling the intensity of their exchange. Her own performance had been steady, yet something in Maya’s portrayal of Karen haunted her. That look—so desperate and fragile—it was as if Karen were staring directly into Martha’s heart, begging for understanding.

Maya took a slow breath visibly shifting gears for her next scene. Ayumi found herself unable to look away. Her heart picked up pace as she watched Maya’s transformation. Joe was the man Martha had quietly envied from a distance, knowing he would take Karen away. Ayumi's chest tightened, a strange discomfort was rising as Sakurakoji walked to the edge of the stage, casting a quick smile at Maya.

The director called out from his seat, signaling the start of the scene. Maya began her lines with a calmness and bitterness that Ayumi hadn’t anticipated. Maya’s Karen slipped away from that vulnerable sincerity she'd shown with Martha, almost as though she was hiding her true heart beneath the stoic surface. The scripted dialogue progressed smoothly, yet the mood on the stage was completely different from the one from previous rehearsals.

“It won’t work,” Maya’s voice trembled slightly, but her eyes held steady. “The two of us together.” Her gaze drifted to the floor, as if her own words scared her.

“ Stop talking like that,” Sakurakoji’s voice was at the edge of panic. As he reached out to Maya’s hand but she flinched it away. “You will believe it soon.”

“Tell me what you want to know,” Maya shook her head, raising her gaze up at Sakurakoji. Her jaw tightened, but determination simmered in her eyes. “Say it now, Joe. Ask it now.”

“I have nothing to ask.” Sakurakoji made a step back, shaking his head in denial. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“After a while in court I stopped listening, it didn’t matter what anybody said.” Maya’s expression softened, as she breathed out. “I began to watch you. You were ashamed. I was too, but you had it worse.”   She glanced at Sakurakoji coldly, yet there was a guilt in her tone.  “Ask it now, Joe.”

Ayumi’s fingers curled around the curtain’s fabric, as she couldn’t avert her eyes from Maya. She acted as if Karen needed a certain confirmation of her own thoughts, and Joe could give her this clue. It wasn’t the guilt of breaking out of a steady relationship. Karen despised herself for not doing it sooner. Ayumi’s heart ached at this unexpected display, but she allowed herself to feel the emotions Maya tried to convey, slipping into the mood of the scene.

“I have nothing to ask,” Sakurakoji blurted out, rushing to Maya’s side, but stopping half the way. “All right. Was it…? Did you ever…?”

Ayumi forgot how to breathe. Instead of delivering the next line, Maya paused, looking directly at her over Sakurakoji’s shoulder. There was a mix of sadness and regret in Maya’s eyes, but then she looked down, turning away.

“No,” Maya finally answered. “ Martha and I have never touched each other. But maybe there was a little truth…”

“Hold!” Director exclaimed, rubbing his temple. “Kitajima, you messed up the lines. This one comes in response to Joe’s next line.” He took a long deep breath. “You made it sound like they had affairs after all.”

"I... I got caught up in the moment." Maya's eyes widened slightly, realizing her mistake. She glanced quickly at the director, then back at Ayumi, who was still watching intently from the offstage.

“Care to tell us what you were thinking at this moment?” Director tossed his copy of the script at the next seat. “There were no rehearsals when you weren’t distracted.”

“I thought that Karen actually had feelings for Martha, but denied them for a long time.” Maya timidly looked down, squeezing the fabric of her costume’s skirt. “Joe is her attempt to prove herself, it's just a delusion. She wants to get married faster, to have a baby, and whatever else… It looks like a poor attempt to prove that she is “normal”, not to everyone but to herself. Yet she can’t simply separate ways with Martha, because it went far beyond the friendship, she can’t even think of living separately.”

“That’s an interesting take, Kitajima.” The director folded his arms, narrowing his eyes thoughtfully. But remember, if you push too much emotion into this, the entire dynamic could shift. Karen’s love should stay implicit, invisible even to herself, though it might hint at something deeper. You need to show restraint, understand?”

Ayumi saw Maya nod and clench her hands together, as if forcing herself to retreat from the intensity of her previous interpretation. Ayumi’s heart sank; she understood the director’s point, but she couldn’t deny the strange beauty Maya had woven into her portrayal. She felt an impulse to go and speak with her immediately, but instead, she found herself simply standing there, watching the faint expression of frustration cross Maya’s face as she collected herself.

“Let’s take a break. Twenty minutes.” The director stood, while his face still held a thoughtful gloomy expression, and headed away from the hall, mumbling something under his breath.

Ayumi leaned against the cool metal frame of the curtain, the faint echo of footsteps reverberating through the empty aisles. The muffled sounds of whispers and shuffling costumes filled the silence, yet her mind focused solely on Maya’s figure across the stage, each small gesture pulling her deeper into the quiet storm of her emotions.

“That was…” As Maya retreated from Sakurakoji’s side, Ayumi stepped forward without thinking. “It’s a refreshing interpretation indeed. I’ve never thought of Karen from this perspective.”

“Thank you,” Maya murmured, her voice hesitant. For a moment, her expression softened, a warmth sparking in her gaze, as if Ayumi’s approval meant more than she dared admit. “I thought that if Karen kept trying to hide her true feelings, maybe it would explain her irrational behavior through the story.”

“This was fascinating.” Ayumi swallowed, feeling the familiar thrum of her heartbeat grow faster. She noticed Maya’s gaze flickering away, as if she tried to avoid meeting Ayumi’s gaze at all cost.  “You captured something real there. It’s not easy to play that level of denial, and yet make it so honest and clear.”

Ayumi’s fingers trembled slightly as she met Maya’s gaze, the intensity of her rival’s eyes pulling her in. She stole a quick glance around them, fully aware of the cast members scattered nearby, yet Maya’s presence demanded her full attention, as if the room had fallen away.

“Sometimes… There is something hidden inside, and you don’t understand it yourself…” Maya replied, her voice so quiet that only Ayumi could hear. “We are not as different with Karen as I thought.” 

“Maya.” Ayumi’s words stuck in her throat, and voice came out unintentionally husky.  She took a step closer, her hand reaching out instinctively before she caught herself and let it fall back to her side

“I couldn’t call it by a name, but maybe it has been there ever since I first knew you.” Maya's eyes darted up to meet Ayumi’s. There was vulnerability there, mixed with a spark of determination.

“That’s… Martha’s line.” Ayumi tried her best to keep her composure. She perfectly knew the meaning behind the script lines, yet her mind refused to see the reason why Maya would quote it here and now. 

“But what would you answer if the rest of the script didn’t exist?” Maya’s voice trembled as she looked to the side.

Ayumi's heart raced as she processed Maya's words. The implications were clear, yet she hesitated, acutely aware of the eyes on them. This wasn't a scene they were rehearsing; this was raw emotion laid bare on the stage where they'd spent so many hours pretending.

"Maya, I..." Ayumi began, her voice barely above a whisper. She glanced around, feeling the curious stares of their castmates. Maya seemed to notice that too and tensed under this unwanted attention. "This isn’t the time or place.”

“You are right. I’m sorry.” Maya’s cheeks flared red and she trembled, as if she fought the desire to run away. “I shouldn’t have…”

"No," Ayumi interrupted, surprising herself with the firmness in her tone. "Don't apologize. Not for this." The moment felt surreal, her own words felt borrowed, as if she was a spectator to her own performance. Yet, as she spoke, she couldn’t ignore the quiet intensity in her voice, the truth hidden beneath each syllable. “Wait for me at the exit after rehearsal.”

Maya nodded shortly, and Ayumi slowly backed away, hesitating to turn around. This wasn’t the time or place—her logical side repeated it like a mantra. But as she looked into Maya’s wide, questioning eyes, Ayumi felt her composure begin to crumble. She wanted to hold Maya’s gaze, to convey everything she couldn’t put into words, but she forced herself to take another step away.

As Ayumi turned away, she glanced back, catching a flicker of Maya’s expression—both hopeful and afraid. Ayumi’s heart beat painfully as she left the stage, each step heavy with the realization that once rehearsal ended, there would be no script, no lines to hide behind.

Chapter Text

In the dim light of the streetlights, Ayumi stood near the theater’s exit, watching the busy street traffic and passing strangers.The noise of city life was pure chaos, her own heart anything but calm. Each minute stretched unbearably, yet she couldn’t bring herself to step away from the spot. She felt as if moving would mean running from something she’d tried to avoid for far too long.

The cool air of the late evening was a welcome distraction, soothing each wave of heat rushing over Ayumi’s body. Each one born of a mere memory from the events on stage. She took her hands out of her coat pockets for the autumn chill to steady her senses. But her thoughts remained restless, replaying in her mind the look in Maya’s eyes before she had walked offstage. The uncertainty, the hope, and perhaps even a touch of fear—it was like a mirror of her own emotions, feelings she hadn’t dared to name.

The door behind her creaked open, and Ayumi’s pulse quickened. Expecting to see Maya, she harshly turned around, but there was only an unfamiliar silhouette against the soft light of the theater. Slowly breathing out, Ayumi closed her eyes in an attempt to calm down her tensed nerves once more as the torturous anticipation promised to continue.

“What if she won’t come?” The thought appeared out of nowhere, as Ayumi tugged the sleeve of her coat to look at the watch on her wrist. Her gaze raised on the car waiting for her, noticing that the driver was getting out and looking at her with concern. “Maybe it’s for the best.”

Ayumi let out a long exhale, the huff a somewhat strange relief and looked up at the gloomy sky, gathering the courage to leave. She was ready to call the evening off—ready to slip back into the shadows where she had always felt safest . Wouldn't it be easier to pretend she never invited Maya to meet her? That the look in Maya’s eyes hadn’t reached something deep inside her? But she knew it was too late, and Ayumi had to endure it.

“Ayumi-san!” The sound of Maya’s voice broke through the quiet chaos of the street like a dropped pin. It was soft, hesitant, yet impossible to ignore. Ayumi froze mid-step, her breath catching as if the evening air had turned to glass in her lungs. Reluctantly, she turned around to face her rival.

Maya stood just outside the doorway, framed by the golden spill of light from the theater behind her. Her hands clutched the strap of her bag tightly, as though holding onto it for strength, while uncertainty could be read in her slightest movement.

“I’m sorry,” Maya began, her voice quiet but hurried, as though she were desperate to fill the silence before Ayumi could respond. “The director stopped me. He… he wanted to discuss my performance in that scene.”

Ayumi held her breath; the emotions she’d been holding at bay began to bubble to the surface. She wanted to respond with a reassuring smile, to tell Maya that it was fine, that she had only been waiting for a little while—but the words caught in her throat. Instead, she nodded slowly, her gaze fixed on Maya’s face.

“Ayumi-san?” Maya’s voice shook with uncertainty. She took a small step forward, but then stopped as if she was afraid to step over some invisible line drawn between them.

“I wasn’t sure you would come.” Ayumi’s voice was calmer than she felt, though her hands curled tightly into fists at her sides to hide their trembling. She took a step closer, the space between them narrowing just slightly. “It’s late, though. I would understand.”

“I wasn’t sure either,” Maya admitted quietly; her voice wavered on the last word. She gripped her bag tighter, her gaze flickering downward as a faint blush colored her cheeks. “But I didn’t want to leave it like that…What I said earlier.”

Ayumi’s heart stumbled at the reminder. She watched as Maya hesitated, clearly gathering her courage, before looking back up at her with an expression so vulnerable it made Ayumi’s chest ache.

“You don’t have to answer.” Maya’s voice was just above a whisper and could be easily lost to the wind if Ayumi didn’t already pay close attention. “It was too sudden and…”

A silence fell between them, thick and trembling with everything unspoken. The wind tugged at Maya’s hair, sending loose strands dancing across her face, but she made no move to brush them away. Ayumi swallowed hard, feeling her heartbeat unsteadily in her chest.

“This isn’t something we can simply brush off and forget.” Ayumi said her voice came out softer than she expected. Maya was lost, perhaps even more than she had been all these days, but there was a single chance that they were seeking the same light. 

However, there was only one problem in sight, and Ayumi realized it as soon as she glanced over a hustling street. This wasn’t a conversation they could afford to have in the chaos of passing strangers. Few options flashed through her mind, but at this hour it was hard to find a calm place away from prying eyes.

“My car is just over there,” Ayumi said, tilting her head toward the sleek black vehicle parked nearby. Her voice was calm, but the slight tremor in her hands betrayed the storm of emotions inside her. “It’s quieter. We can talk there.”

Maya’s eyes rounded in surprise, but she didn't say a word, nodding several times instead. Dread was written over her face, one that Ayumi understood way too well, yet it mingled with resolve she had never seen in her rival ever before.

Ayumi led the way, her footsteps deliberate but unsteady, and her thoughts went blank as she didn’t know what to expect next. Maya obediently followed her, yet the tension in her posture indicated that she fought the desire to run away at any given opportunity. This was akin to a walk over a frozen lake, while the ice was so thin that one wrong step could break beneath them at any second.

Ayumi opened the car back door for Maya before sliding into the seat beside her rival. She briefly exchanged a few words with her driver, and the man nodded in acknowledgement, getting out of the car to give two actresses some privacy. The door shut behind him with a muted thud, sealing away the hum of the city. 

The silence fell between them, filled with the weight of everything they needed to say. However, none had the courage to say the first word. It was harder than anything Ayumi ever did in her life. She never struggled for the right words nor flinched away from difficult conversation, yet now she wasn’t sure what should be said and done.

“Ayumi-san…!” Maya blurted out first, squeezing the hem of her coat between her fingers as if it was the only anchor she had. Her eyes searched Ayumi’s for something, but then her gaze slipped away, focusing on her own hands.  

“It doesn’t have to mean anything,” Ayumi took the lead, her voice soft but steady. Her own heart mirrored that fear she saw in Maya, yet she didn’t let it come to the surface. “What you said earlier…”

  “No!   “Maya’s head snapped up, her eyes wide with alarm.   “It does mean something,” she said quickly, her voice trembling. “I wouldn’t have said it if it didn’t.”

Ayumi’s heart skipped a beat, her breath catching in her throat. She had been prepared for Maya to retreat, to hide behind their roles and the script, but not this. She could give any explanation, even the dullest one, and Ayumi would accept it in an instant, but hearing the raw honesty in her rival’s voice left her momentarily unmoored.

“Then you should tell me what it means,” Ayumi said carefully, unconsciously leaning slightly toward Maya. Her breath slowed down, while her pulse thumped in her ears. It felt like a climactic scene in an unknown play that could reach its peak at any moment. “I’m afraid my assumptions might not match reality.”

Maya hesitated; her fingers curled into fists as she glanced at Ayumi again. The words seemed to hover on her lips, just out of reach, and Ayumi could see the internal battle playing out behind her downcast eyes.

“It’s just…” Maya began, her voice barely audible. She swallowed hard, her shoulders trembling slightly as she forced herself to meet Ayumi’s gaze. “I don’t know how to put it into words. But being on stage with you, it’s… It’s not just acting anymore; it's not a rivalry. It feels different.”

“Maya…” Ayumi whispered, her chest ached with a mix of emotions she couldn’t fully name. Relief, fear, and something dangerously close to hope, but she had to listen to common sense first and foremost. “Maybe it’s this play to be blamed. What you found for Karen is remarkable, but are you sure it doesn’t affect you more than it should?”

“I’m not a rookie anymore.” Maya shook her head with a weak smile, which never reached her eyes. “At first, I thought so too. I saw such cases and how actors struggle with separating their roles and real lives, but...” She paused, raising her gaze to Ayumi’s face. “This play affected me, but not in a way you think.”  

Ayumi couldn't tear her gaze away from Maya. A thousand questions swirled through her mind, but she held them all back, afraid that her words would break the spell of the moment.

“Me and Karen. We are not so different after all, are we?” Maya let out a short laugh that left behind only a shadow of a smile.

Ayumi’s breath caught as she heard Maya’s words. She couldn’t answer this question. It was a mystery for her which Karen Maya meant—the ignorant one she saw in the script from the start or one she found beyond written lines. Yet she couldn’t bring herself to ask.

“Ayumi-san, I…” Maya fell silent, biting her lower lip.  

Ayumi’s fingers brushed against the edge of the seat, searching for an anchor, something to ground her in the uncertain moment. She watched as Maya’s lips parted, the words slow to come, but her eyes gave an answer louder than any confession.

“I can’t pretend it isn’t there,” Maya admitted, her voice wavering, while her hands trembled slightly as they gripped the fabric of her coat once more.

Ayumi’s heart ached at the vulnerability in Maya’s voice. She reached out slowly, her hand hovering for a moment before she let it fall between them. Ayumi felt as if the walls she had so carefully built around herself were beginning to crack. She wanted to tell Maya that she understood, that she wasn’t alone in her confusion, but fear held her back. Dread of what these feelings might mean for both of them and of what might happen if she said it out loud.

“But I’m not alone in this, right?” Maya muttered in desperation as her patience seemed to grow thin in the wait for Ayumi’s answer. A silent plea shimmered in her eye as she looked straight at Ayumi. “Tell me, Ayumi-san, did I imagine the shift in your performance?”

“You didn’t,” Ayumi answered, her voice steady despite the storm raging inside her. “That’s why I asked you to meet me.”

Maya’s eyes widened, her lips parting in a silent gasp. The shock in her expression was almost too much for Ayumi to bear, but she held her gaze, refusing to look away.

“What…? But…!” Maya tried to speak, but her thoughts seemed to be in chaos, messing up her ability to speak. ‘Why?” Confusion and panic changed one another as she tried to comprehend what happened a moment ago.

“Maya.” Finally regaining control over herself, Ayumi laid her palm atop Maya’s, squeezing it gently. “Where did your bravery go all of a sudden?” She smiled reassuringly while her own body trembled from the inside.

“Why didn’t you say it sooner?” Maya whispered, visibly relaxing under Ayumi’s touch.

“Because it’s terrifying.” Ayumi’s gaze faltered for the first time, her confidence wavering. “I might not be as weak-minded as Martha, but confession and rejection would stain the relationship we had so far.”

“I would never…!” Maya answered in alert, grabbing Ayumi’s hand into hers. She held onto her as if Ayumi was her most precious treasure., pressing her lips in a thin line and frowning in determination.

“That is even scarier.” Ayumi shook her head. “A mere rumor ruined two women’s lives; what could the truth do to us? To your future. You’ve worked so hard to build your career, Maya. I’ve watched you grow into someone remarkable. I can’t be the reason that’s put at risk.”

“You think you’re protecting me, but you’re not.” Maya’s grip on Ayumi’s hand tightened as if refusing to let her words slip away. Her determination was both heartbreaking and inspiring, a reflection of the courage Ayumi herself had struggled to summon. “Hiding from this, pretending it’s not real—It hurts more than any mocking article or whispers behind my back.”

For a long moment, silence settled over them, heavy with the weight of unspoken fears. Ayumi’s hand remained in Maya’s grasp, their connection grounding her in a way nothing else could.

“Maya,” Ayumi said finally, her voice steady despite the chaos in her thoughts. “If we do this—if we acknowledge what this is—we have to be prepared for what it might mean. We live in different times, but this won’t be much easier than for Martha and Karen. Judgment, whispers, rumors…”  

“I know.” Maya nodded slowly, her gaze never leaving Ayumi’s. “But I’d rather face all of that with you than spend another day pretending this isn’t real.”

“And what if it’s too much?” Ayumi asked, her voice soft. She breathed out slowly, admitting her defeat. She had always prided herself on control, on discipline, but sitting here in Maya’s steady gaze, she realized this was not something she could rehearse or plan her way out of. “What if it becomes something we can’t control? There won’t be any scripts to follow.”

“Then we’ll figure it out together,” Maya said simply. She leaned forward slightly, her eyes searching Ayumi’s for any sign of doubt. “Isn’t that what we’ve always done? On stage—we push each other to be better, to go further. This won’t be much different.”

“Together…” Ayumi murmured, the words spilling out before she could second-guess them. Her fingers relaxed in Maya’s grasp, her thumb brushing lightly against the back of Maya’s hand. It was a small gesture, but it carried the weight of everything she couldn’t yet put into words.

The world outside the car ceased to exist. There was only the quiet hum of their breaths, the warmth of their shared space. For the first time in what felt like forever, the storm inside Ayumi began to calm, leaving behind the fragile but undeniable certainty that whatever came next, they would face it side by side.