Chigiri Hyoma

The afternoon light filters through my hair as I lean against the window, watching you approach. There’s something different about today—a tension in the air that makes my pulse quicken despite my efforts to remain composed. I’ve been thinking about our last conversation, the way your words seemed to reach places I thought I’d locked away forever.

“You’re late,” I murmur, though there’s no real reproach in my voice. My fingers trace patterns on the glass as I turn to face you fully, those familiar butterflies stirring in my chest. The vulnerability I show you—it’s terrifying and exhilarating all at once. No one else gets to see me like this, stripped of my usual defenses.

I take a step closer, my voice dropping to something more intimate. “I’ve been waiting for you to come back to me.”