The afternoon sky hung low like a weary sigh, a dull canvas of thickening gray that smothered the sun behind its swollen layers. The wind carried the scent of damp leaves and petrichor, that sharp, earthy promise of incoming rain. The sports field stretched beside them silent and still, the usual echo of voices and whistles absent today.
Haruki Tenma and Miyako Hanabira walked side by side along the narrow path flanking the field, their shoes scuffing lightly against the gravel. The only other sound was the occasional rustle of wind weaving through the trees, as if the world was holding its breath around them.
Haruki held the umbrella steady above them, one hand tight around the grip. The black fabric trembled slightly with each gust, but he didn't falter. Miyako walked a little too close, her shoulder brushing his arm again and again, not by accident but not acknowledged either. It was like they were clinging to the silence, afraid of breaking whatever fragile thing had formed between them.
"Do you think it's going to rain soon?" Miyako asked at last, her voice breezy but beneath it, a tension wavered, like a string pulled too tight.
Haruki's eyes flicked toward her, noting the way she didn't quite meet his gaze. "Probably," he replied. "The clouds look ready to burst."
She gave a quiet hum and looked up at the sky, strands of hair tugged gently by the wind. Her expression softened, and for a few seconds, they walked on in silence.
Then, with a breathless kind of honesty, she said, "I don't know if I can keep pretending like this."
Haruki's step faltered.
He turned slightly toward her, brows furrowed. "Pretending?"
Miyako looked down, nudging a pebble with the toe of her shoe until it skidded off the edge of the path. "Yeah. This whole thing being married but not dating. Sharing a roof and pretending it doesn't mean anything. Smiling like it's normal, when it's… not." Her voice cracked, just slightly. "It's exhausting."
Haruki came to a full stop.
Miyako slowed, then turned to face him. The umbrella shifted with the motion, tilting just enough for a few fat raindrops to splatter across their shoulders and forearms. The chill hit like a spark, but neither of them moved to adjust it.
Haruki's eyes locked on hers those wild, fearless blue eyes but now, they shimmered like rain-soaked glass. The fire was still there, but something else had risen behind it. Longing. Doubt. Hope.
"Why does it feel like everything to you?" Haruki asked, his voice low and steady, even though his chest thudded painfully with each word.
She hesitated. Then, in a small voice, "Because you're not just some friend anymore. Not to me."
Haruki's breath caught in his throat.
The moment stretched between them tender and terrifying.
He opened his mouth to speak, but the storm interrupted first.
Rain began to fall. Gently at first, then with more purpose. It soaked into their clothes, painted their hair with glistening drops. Still, they stood there, unmoving, caught in something deeper than the storm.
Without thinking, Haruki shrugged off his school blazer and draped it around her shoulders. It was warm from his body, smelling faintly of detergent and summer sweat.
Miyako looked up, startled, her cheeks flushed pink beneath the falling rain. "Haruki…"
"You'll catch a cold if you don't," he said, trying to sound casual, though his throat felt tight.
A smile tugged at her lips small, real. "Thanks."
They started walking again closer this time steps syncing up as if to an unspoken rhythm. The rain drummed around them like nature's own applause, but under the umbrella, it felt distant, like they were walking through a different world. A smaller one. A safer one.
Haruki broke the silence first. "You know… I think I've been pretending too."
Miyako blinked, surprised. "You have?"
"I kept telling myself this was just a mistake," he said, his voice rough. "Some weird paperwork accident. Something we'd laugh about later. But…"
He hesitated.
"But what?" she asked, her voice softer now.
"But every time I wake up and you're already in the kitchen… every time I see you fix your hair in my mirror… or catch you humming some dumb song while doing homework… I feel like I'm seeing something I was never supposed to have. Something I… kind of want to keep."
Miyako's breath caught, and she reached out without thinking, her fingers brushing lightly against his.
The contact was electric.
Haruki didn't flinch. He didn't pull away. Instead, he let his fingers curl around hers, slowly, like testing how real it was.
"Maybe," he murmured, "we're not pretending at all. Maybe we're just scared."
Miyako gave a tiny nod. Her voice trembled when she whispered, "Then let's figure it out. Together."
They stopped beneath a sprawling tree near the park's edge, the leaves acting as a second umbrella, rain sliding off in glistening streams. The air was cooler now, but between them, something was burning.
Haruki looked down at her at the way her lips parted like she wanted to say more, at the way her eyes searched his like she already had.
"I don't know what the future looks like," he said, "but I want to find out with you."
Tears welled in her eyes not from sadness, but from the quiet release of everything she'd been holding back.
"Me too," she whispered, the words catching in her throat like a vow.
And in that storm-soaked afternoon, under a sky heavy with rain and promise, two hearts finally stopped pretending.
They were no longer just husband and wife on paper.
They were something real.
Something unfolding.