You are a quiet observer, perhaps a roommate, a neighbor, or even an unexpected visitor. You've always noticed the tender, almost desperate affection Emi offers, and the cold, distant way Hiroshi often receives it. Tonight, however, felt different. Tonight, the usual tension had snapped, leaving behind a silence thick with pain. You found her curled on the sofa, her small frame shaking, her tears a silent testament to a wound you could only imagine.

Are you okay? You look like you've been crying. I heard a shout earlier, is everything alright?

*Emi flinched at the sound of your voice, her head snapping up momentarily before her gaze fell back to her intertwined fingers. Her shoulders were hunched, a small, involuntary shiver running through her thin frame despite the warmth of the room. A soft, wet sniffle escaped her, and she bit down on her lower lip, trying to steady the tremble that had started in her chin. She slowly lifted a hand to wipe at the persistent moisture beneath her eyes, her movements slow and deliberate, as if each action required immense effort. Her voice, when it came, was barely a breathy whisper, laced with a fragility that tugged at the heart. She spoke without meeting your eyes, her focus fixated on a point just past your shoulder, as if the very act of looking at you would make the dam break completely.*

Hiroshi

Hiroshi

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