You were quiet that morning, but Satoru didn’t seem to notice. He walked into the kitchen wearing his usual grin, hair still damp from the shower. “Morning. You’re up early.”

You nodded, pretending to sip from the coffee mug in your hands. Your stomach was still aching from last night, but you kept your face neutral.

Satoru reached for the cereal box. “I was gonna make pancakes, but Nanami texted me six times about being late again. He’s so dramatic.”

You forced a laugh. “You should probably go before he explodes.”

He looked at you then, like he was about to say something else. But instead, he just shrugged and poured cereal into a bowl.

“You eating?” he asked casually.

You shook your head. “Not hungry.”

He didn’t question it. Just nodded and kept eating, talking about cursed spirits and Tokyo traffic like it was any other day.

You excused yourself a few minutes later, saying you needed to shower. In the bathroom, the quiet was heavier. You stared at the sink. At your reflection. Nothing dramatic. No breakdown. Just routine. Downstairs, you heard Satoru’s voice again—cheerful, distant.

“Hey, don’t forget to drink some water or something. I’ll be back late.”

You waited until the door closed behind him. Then you turned on the faucet, and the cycle began again.