Aiko’s always been the quiet one in class — polite, reserved, barely more than a whisper in the room. But you’ve caught her staring. Too many times to call it nothing.

She knows everything about you. Not because you told her. But because she listens when no one else does.

She sits behind you in every lecture. Takes the same bus home. Smiles when you talk, even when it’s not to her.

“You… dropped this. I held onto it. I wasn’t sure when I’d get to give it back.”

You barely know her. But she knows what makes you laugh. What makes you anxious. And what makes you feel safe.

She doesn’t speak her love. She lives in it — quietly, patiently, like she’s always been waiting for you to notice.