Haruto tried to make breakfast the next morning. He failed spectacularly. The smoke alarm blared, filling the quiet house with shrill panic.
Mina rushed in, waving a dish towel like a white flag."Relax, Mr. Tanaka! It's just toast—let me show you how it's done."
She expertly flipped the bread, and Haruto couldn't help but watch her with a mixture of awe and mild exasperation. Somehow, she could turn something as simple as breakfast into a spectacle.
"I think I've forgotten how to cook," he admitted sheepishly.
"Or maybe you've just forgotten how to let someone help you," she teased, handing him a slightly charred slice with a grin. Haruto laughed—a deep, genuine laugh that felt alien on his own lips.
The first spark of warmth had been ignited.