Forty-eight hours. That was how long it had been since Jun Kuroda had opened his eyes in the sterile, white room of the hospital.
Yui Hanamura was seated at her desk in the bustling, everyday chaos of Class 2-A, a perfectly neat student in a perfectly ordinary classroom. Yet, only her body was present. Her mind was a satellite, orbiting a specific bed on the third floor of the city hospital.
She was exhausted. Not physically, but from the emotional whiplash of relief. The constant, quiet tension that had held her rigid for two years had suddenly snapped, and now, all that coiled energy was aimed at one goal: escaping school. She didn't care about covalent bonds or the Tokugawa Shogunate. All she cared about was the final bell.
Yesterday, she had spent hours talking to him, reintroducing herself, watching his eyes slowly try to fit her face into his lost memories. But today, the separation was agony. Every minute felt like an hour.
Outside the window, the world was bright, but Yui's focus was glued to her lap. Hidden beneath her desk, her phone was her lifeline. She had to be discreet. She was the Silent Princess, after all, and princesses do not constantly check their texts during History class.
From a few rows back, Tanaka Kenji—the unlucky recipient of Yui's most recent, gentle rejection—watched her. He was the only one in the class who had seen her at her lowest, who had tried to offer comfort she couldn't accept. He noticed the minute tremor in her hand as she reached for her phone, the slight, almost imperceptible warmth that had crept back into her cheeks. She still hadn't spoken to him since the news broke, but the difference was unmistakable. The ice was melting.
Yui's Screen Glowed
A new message popped up, and Yui risked a glance, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird.
Yui: Don't you dare try to pull out any IVs today. I'm serious. You need to rest.
(She imagined him frowning, his eyebrows knitting together in that thoughtful way he used to—a small, familiar pang of love hit her.)
Jun: How can I rest when I have to secure my escape? I can't wait any longer, I need to hug my high school onee-san wife.
Yui's entire body tensed. Onee-san! She's only two weeks older than him! And... wife? Her cheeks instantly warmed, a vibrant, unfamiliar heat that she hadn't felt in years.
Yui: Onee-san!? I am NOT your wife. I am your fiancée. You idiot.
(She had to keep the tone light, matching his tease, but the word "fiancée" felt huge and powerful and real, a little victory whispered into the screen.)
Jun: Nope. According to Japanese law, after you kiss someone 10 times, you are automatically his wife. Check the statute books, wifey.
Yui: You do not have a degree in Japanese law. Ba-ka.
Jun: Well, I'm your ba-ka husband now, so deal with it.
(Yui bit her lip to stop herself from smiling. Her fingers flew across the keyboard. She imagined grabbing his ear.)
Yui: I will tear your ear off the moment I get there. Wait and see.
Jun: Exactly. Need you to hurry up and rescue me, wifey. Bring me a decent snack, too. This hospital only has sad puddings.
A sound, small and bright, suddenly escaped her. It was a genuine, high-pitched chuckle, not a polite laugh, but the clear sound of true, unburdened happiness.
The quiet classroom, currently focused on a difficult math problem, snapped to attention. Every eye turned to Yui Hanamura, the Silent Princess, who was now clutching her mouth, her entire face flushed crimson, radiating a silent apology to the teacher. She immediately shoved the phone into her bag, praying for the ground to swallow her whole. The attention felt like a physical weight, but she couldn't hide the warmth of the smile that refused to leave her face.
The final bell screamed its promise of freedom, and Yui was ready to dash. She had perfected the art of the quick exit yesterday, using the transition between classes to avoid conversation.
She was not quick enough.
Three girls, led by Rina, appeared at her desk almost instantly, blocking her escape route.
"Hanamura-san, you look so much better! Seriously, you have color in your cheeks," Rina said tentatively, her voice full of soft relief.
"Yes! We were all so worried about you," another girl added warmly.
Yui looked at their faces. For the first time, she saw real sympathy, not pity, and not the awkward, reverent silence they usually offered. They were looking at her, not the memorial. The time for the mask was over.
"Is it true?" Rina whispered. "We heard the news about... Kuroda-kun."
Yui's voice was soft, but perfectly steady. The confirmation was not a tragedy, but a miracle, and she finally spoke it aloud. "Yes," Yui replied. "He's awake now. The doctors say he's fine."
A collective wave of relief and excitement washed over the group. Yui felt her anxiety about being stopped dissolve. It felt good to share the simple truth.
They kept her hooked for another two minutes, asking gentle questions about his condition and how she felt, until Yui's internal clock, which was synchronized to the hospital visiting hours, began to panic.
"I—I have to go," Yui said, gathering her things. She wasn't used to speaking this much, and the words tumbled out before she could filter them. "I need to... go pick up my husband."
The entire group went completely silent. Rina's mouth dropped open. Yui's brain, belatedly registering the word she had just used, seized up. The image of Jun's smug, teasing face from the last text message flashed behind her eyes. Damn it, Jun!
"I—I mean—" Yui stammered, frantically trying to backpedal and offer a coherent explanation. "I mean, my... future husband. Just my fiancé! Not my husband! I have to go now!"
With her face completely red, Yui didn't wait for another question. She bolted, leaving her classmates stunned into silence, her Silent Princess reputation annihilated by one word, and one very insistent boy.