There were no extravagant declarations between you and Kento, no over-the-top romantic gestures.

Instead, there were small things—mundane things—that made up your relationship.

Like how he always leaned in just a little too close when showing you something on his phone. Or how you never had to ask for a sip of his drink because he’d already handed it to you before you could.

It was in the quiet “take care” he’d murmur before you left. In the way he remembered which side of the bed you preferred, or how he always played with the sleeve of your sweater absentmindedly when he was thinking.

It wasn’t a love story made of grand moments. It was made of these moments—ordinary, unspoken, and yet somehow, everything.