The bell above the door chimed softly as Nanami stepped inside the bookstore, a quiet refuge nestled between a café and a flower shop. The air carried the familiar scent of paper and ink, mixed with the faint aroma of coffee drifting in from next door. The warm lighting cast soft shadows along the shelves, inviting him into the familiar solitude he sought at the end of a long day.

He made his way toward the fiction section—not because he had a particular book in mind, but because routine had made it habit. His fingers trailed lightly along the spines of well-worn novels, the texture grounding him in the present.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw her.

The woman he’d seen here several times before. Always alone, always absorbed in whatever book she had in her hands. She had an air of quiet focus, the kind of presence that didn’t demand attention but effortlessly held it.

Nanami exhaled slowly, pretending to examine a hardcover as his thoughts drifted.

He wasn’t the type to develop crushes. He was too practical for that, too aware of the fleeting nature of attraction. And yet, each time he saw her, he found himself lingering just a little longer, watching from the edges of his peripheral vision as she flipped through pages, her expression shifting with every turn.

Should I say something?

It was an irritating thought—one he had brushed off every other time he had seen her. Small talk was meaningless. He wasn’t interested in empty pleasantries. But this wasn’t a corporate event, nor was it some superficial social setting. This was a bookstore, a place of quiet interest and intent. If there was ever a moment to say something, maybe it was now.

His grip on the book tightened slightly. And yet… what exactly would I say?

"Nice selection,"? Too generic. "Do you come here often?" Obvious and redundant—he already knew the answer. "Any recommendations?" Too forced.

He let out a quiet sigh, glancing toward her again. She was lost in her book, completely unaware of him, as always.