Hiyori stood rooted to the ground as Ansh walked toward her, a young woman by his side. The girl, Shoko, was cheerful, her eyes warm as she smiled and thanked Hiyori for finding the phone and notebooks.
Ansh, however, remained distant, his gaze steady but devoid of recognition.
"Thank you for finding these," he said, his tone polite but detached.
Hiyori stared at him, her heart sinking. This wasn't the Ansh she had imagined, the one she had clung to in her memories. The person standing before her felt like a stranger.
"You're not as charming as I expected," she blurted, unable to mask her disappointment. Her eyes shifted to Shoko. "Is she your girlfriend?"
Ansh's expression didn't change. "Does it matter?" he asked flatly.
Hiyori forced a laugh. "No, not really," she said, thrusting the phone toward him. "Here. Just take your stuff and leave."
Ansh accepted the phone without a word, turned on his heel, and walked away with Shoko. Hiyori stood there, her emotions a storm of excitement and anger. She had been waiting for this moment for so long, yet it felt like a cruel twist of fate.
He doesn't even remember me, she thought bitterly. And who is that girl? Are they together?
She bit her lip, trying to suppress the wave of jealousy that rose within her. But beneath the frustration, a flicker of joy remained. She had seen him again. That was something.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, Hiyori realized how late it had gotten. She rushed toward the station, her steps quickening as the streets grew quieter. Just as she reached the edge of the platform, a voice called out behind her.
"Hiyori?"
She froze, her breath catching in her throat. Turning slowly, she saw a middle-aged man standing under the dim glow of a streetlight. His face was vaguely familiar, but she couldn't place where she had seen him before.
"Do I… know you?" she asked cautiously.
The man smiled warmly. "I'm not surprised you don't remember. I was a friend of your father's when you were a child. I haven't seen you since you were little."
Hiyori's heart raced. The mention of her father brought back flashes of her childhood, though the details were hazy. "How do you know me?"
"I recognize your face," he said, stepping closer. "You look just like your father did when he was young. How is he? How are your parents?"
Hiyori's throat tightened. She couldn't bring herself to respond.
Seeing her hesitation, the man's expression softened. "It's getting late. Why don't you stay at my place tonight? It's not safe to wander alone."
"No, I'm fine," she said quickly, taking a step back.
But the man was persistent. "I insist. You can call your family or your hostel to let them know. I promise it's no trouble."
Feeling cornered, Hiyori reluctantly agreed. She called the hostel, explaining that she would be staying elsewhere for the night, and followed the man through the quiet streets.
The house was modest but well-kept, its warm lights spilling onto the cobblestone path leading to the door. As Hiyori stepped inside, her chest tightened. There was something achingly familiar about the place—the smell of old wood, the faint hum of a radio playing in another room.
"I'll get you settled," the man said, gesturing toward the living room. "Make yourself comfortable."
Hiyori sat down, her eyes scanning the room. Family photos lined the shelves, and her breath hitched when her gaze landed on one in particular.
The man stood in the photo, younger and smiling, with a boy who looked unmistakably like Ansh.
Her heart dropped. "You're…" she began, her voice trembling.
The man smiled. "Yes. I'm his father, he is Ansh, you don't remember"