Haruna blinked, as if she'd been lost in her own thoughts, then shook her head slightly, coming back to herself. "Y-yeah, sister," she stammered, her voice still thick with sleep—or maybe something else.
She made her way to my side, her fingers brushing against mine as she took the plates from me. The contact was brief, but it sent a jolt through me, a reminder of everything that had happened just hours before.
She began serving breakfast, her movements careful as she placed a plate in front of Yuko, then one for me, and finally one for herself. The clink of silverware against the plates filled the silence, the scent of food mingling with the faint, lingering aroma of something sweeter—something that made my pulse quicken.
Yuko's fingers tightened around her fork, her knuckles whitening just slightly. Of course, she noticed. She noticed everything—the way Haruna's breath hitched when our eyes met, the way the air between us had thickened, heavy with something unspoken.
