Chapter 9 — The Quiet Between Heartbeats
The Monday after the festival dawned quiet, the usual clamor of students subdued as if the weekend's beauty still lingered in the walls.
The "Story Garden" had earned their class praise from teachers and admiration from other grades. Rumors even said the principal personally visited their booth and smiled. That alone became a point of pride.
But for Elira, the aftermath of the festival felt less like triumph and more like standing at the edge of something unfamiliar.
Her confession lingered like morning mist—neither accepted nor rejected, just there.
Kaito had been kind, as he always was. But he hadn't answered.
She hadn't expected a perfect response. But part of her had hoped.
Now, in the quiet of homeroom, Elira kept her eyes low, sketching vines curling around the margin of her notebook.
Elena sat beside her, occasionally glancing her way but saying nothing. She knew better than to rush her twin.
"Good morning!" Kaito greeted as he stepped in, a little late, hair slightly damp from the morning rain.
He offered them both a smile. Elira returned it with one of her own—a little hesitant, but genuine.
"Did you get caught in the rain?" Elena asked.
"Only a little. My fault for missing the forecast."
He took his seat and turned toward them. "About this weekend…"
Elira braced herself.
"…I wanted to say thank you. Again. You two really made it happen."
Elira nodded, her chest loosening a fraction. Not the answer she feared. Not yet the one she hoped for either.
Over the next week, their classroom slipped back into its normal rhythm. The anthology project was completed and submitted.
The class's group chat buzzed with photos and inside jokes from the festival, many featuring the twins for the first time—smiling, relaxed, surrounded by friends.
Kaito was still there—still present, still kind. But Elira noticed a subtle shift. He didn't initiate as many conversations with her alone.
He looked at Elena longer sometimes, not in a way that was obvious to others, but to Elira, it stung.
And yet, Elena never brought it up.
Elira wondered if her sister was waiting for something to happen… or trying to prevent it.
...
Midweek, Elena was called to the nurse's office with a mild fever. Elira offered to go with her, but Elena shook her head.
"You'll miss art club."
"It doesn't matter."
"It does to you," Elena replied. "Go."
So Elira went.
Art club was usually her sanctuary. But today, it felt off.
As she painted in silence, a classmate named Yumi approached. Yumi was one of the newer members—shy, quiet, but friendly.
"Your drawings at the festival were amazing," she said.
"Thank you."
Yumi hesitated. "Is it true you designed the 'Poetry Corner'?"
Elira nodded.
Yumi smiled brightly. "It made me cry. In a good way."
For the first time in days, Elira's heart warmed without confusion.
Maybe… she could belong here, too.
That weekend, Elena hadn't fully recovered. She insisted Elira go to the local spring library fair with Kaito, who was scheduled to volunteer with their school's reading booth.
"You'll both have fun," she said, voice slightly hoarse but eyes gentle. "And I trust you."
Elira hesitated, unsure if she was betraying something just by saying yes.
But Elena smiled. "Go. Please."
So she did.
The fair was vibrant. Stalls lined the park outside the library, each one with themed decorations—children's book corners, young adult fantasy, classic literature games.
Kaito wore a staff tag and handed out bookmarks to visiting students. Elira joined the drawing booth, where kids requested illustrations of their favorite characters.
She sketched smiling animals, heroic girls with swords, and space robots. The children laughed and clapped. One little girl tugged her sleeve and said, "You draw magic."
Elira blinked.
She hadn't felt this light in days.
Kaito approached her after his shift ended. "You looked happy back there."
"I was."
"Do you ever think about doing this professionally?" he asked. "Art, I mean."
She paused. "Sometimes. But… I don't know if I'm good enough."
"You are," he said, like it was a fact, not flattery.
They walked through the park afterward, the late afternoon light slanting gold through the trees.
"About the other day," he said finally. "When you told me… how you felt."
Her breath caught.
"I didn't answer then. I wanted to think. Because you're important to me. You and Elena both."
She stared at him.
"I think I could feel the same," he said softly. "But I don't want to hurt either of you. I need to be sure."
Elira looked down. "That makes sense."
He reached out, brushing her knuckles. "But I meant what I said—thank you. For trusting me with that."
She nodded, trying not to cry.
They sat under a maple tree for a while, watching leaves flutter.
Not everything had to be solved at once.
Sometimes, the quiet between heartbeats said enough.
Back at home that night, Elena was feeling better. She greeted Elira with a mug of warm tea and asked, "Was it nice?"
Elira sat beside her. "It was."
"Did you tell him again?"
"No," Elira said. "But he… sort of answered."
Elena smiled faintly. "I'm glad."
"Even if it's me?" Elira asked.
Elena laughed softly. "Especially if it's you."
They leaned against each other, forehead to shoulder.
"You're my other half," Elena whispered. "I want you to be happy. We'll be okay, no matter what."
Elira closed her eyes.
Maybe this was what growing up felt like—not dramatic breakups or declarations, but slow changes, soft truths, and people choosing to stay.
The next week, life moved forward.
They prepared for midterms. Elira stayed up helping Elena study math while Elena read Elira's draft of a new comic script.
Kaito visited their table at lunch almost every day. He didn't always sit between them anymore—sometimes across, sometimes beside Elira, once beside Elena. But he laughed with both. Listened to both.
It wasn't perfect.
But it felt real.
One day, after school, Elena found a folded note inside her locker. It was written in neat but unfamiliar handwriting:
"I really liked your editing work. You made my words better. Want to talk sometime?" —R.T."
Elena smiled.
She tucked the note away.
Spring moved on. The sakura petals thinned, replaced by fresh green leaves. The season was changing.
So were they.
To be continued...