Three years had passed since Yakumo and Hana had first claimed their small apartment. Their marriage was warm, routine, and comfortable. Most evenings were simple: shared meals, quiet conversations, and small moments of laughter. Work often kept them busy, and though their secret hill had become a distant memory, they sometimes visited the local park to watch the clouds—a small ritual Yakumo still cherished, and Hana was happy to share.
That evening, Hana waited by the door, a crease of worry forming on her forehead. The apartment was quiet except for the soft hum of the refrigerator. When Yakumo finally stepped inside, she called gently, trying to mask her concern.
"You're late… work ended two hours ago, didn't it?"
Yakumo's shoulders slumped, and his gaze dropped to the floor. "I… got held up with some things," he said, his voice quiet, almost too controlled.
Hana studied him for a moment. There was something different in his eyes, a shadow of distraction she hadn't seen before. But she pushed it aside. Maybe it's just a rough day, she thought.
"Are you hungry?" she asked, her voice softening. "I made your favorite."
For a moment, Yakumo's face lit up, the familiar warmth returning. "Yes, thank you," he said, hurrying to wash his hands. The routine comfort of it eased her worry slightly, though she noticed he didn't hug her as he usually did when he returned from work.
Handing him the food, Hana tried to focus on the familiar rhythm of their evening. Still, a tiny unease settled in her chest, a whisper she couldn't quite ignore. Something feels… off, she admitted to herself, but she pushed the thought away.
"Tomorrow's your day off," she said, forcing a light tone. "Do you want to go watch the clouds?"
Yakumo paused, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his expression. His fingers lingered on the edge of the table. "I… I have somewhere to be," he said, his voice tight.
Hana's brow furrowed slightly. There was hesitation there something he wasn't saying. But she nodded, trusting him as always. "Okay," she murmured, though the knot in her chest didn't fully disappear.
Later that night, as she washed the dishes and listened to the hum of the apartment, Hana's eyes drifted to the ceiling. She imagined clouds drifting overhead, slow and silent. Even the most peaceful things can change without warning, she thought. And somewhere deep down, she wondered if this quiet, comfortable life was just the calm before a storm.