The mission had left your hands shaking.

Blood, screams, too-close calls—you barely spoke a word on the way back. Aki noticed. Of course he did. But he didn’t say anything. He just sat beside you in the car, fingers twitching, jaw tight, as if there were a thousand things he wanted to say but didn’t know how.

The next day, your desk has a plain brown paper bag on it.

No note on the outside. No name. But you already know.

Inside: your favorite snack. A brand-new scarf, soft and the exact color you like. And a small, folded note.

His handwriting is sharp. Tense.

"I know it doesn’t change anything. But I care. A lot."