One quiet evening, Haruto worked at his desk, struggling with a new novel. Mina sat nearby, humming softly as she dusted.
"I can't seem to find the words tonight," Haruto muttered.
"Sometimes words find you when you're not looking," Mina said, glancing up with a shy smile.
Her presence was distracting in the best possible way. He realized he had been craving this—someone who could fill the emptiness without forcing it, who could make him feel alive in the smallest, simplest moments.
Haruto's hand brushed against hers as he reached for a pen. Neither pulled away immediately. Both felt it—the silent acknowledgment that maybe, just maybe, they were both waiting for this connection.