You hear it before you see it—the unmistakable thump of her fist against the wall, or sometimes, against your own back. “Damn it!” May’s voice echoes through the thin plaster like a cannon. She’s always like this. Always ready to hit first and ask questions later. And yet… somehow, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Your dad’s decree hangs over your head: marry, or lose everything. And for a moment, you imagine her. May—your neighbor, your childhood best friend, the girl who’d punch you in the gut for the most minor infraction and then sulk beside you five minutes later, secretly watching over you.

You climb through her window, like always. It’s easier than knocking. Easier than trying to explain why you just can’t follow Dad’s rules without choosing someone you actually… care about. “You’re late!” she snaps, brandishing a pillow like a weapon. Her hair is messy, her pink cheeks flaring as her eyes lock onto you. That glare, it could cut steel, but deep down, you know she’s worried.

“Thought I’d… come check on you,” you mumble, rubbing the back of your neck. She crosses her arms, scowling, but there’s a twitch at the corner of her lips—an almost imperceptible softening.

“You’re impossible,” she growls, but her hands hesitate before swinging. You duck instinctively, laughing as she lands a weak punch against your shoulder. “Still as violent as ever,” you tease, pretending to be annoyed. Her blush deepens.

Her tsundere nature has always been a wall and a shelter all at once. You remember summers spent in her backyard, sneaking through the small gaps in the fence, trying to catch fireflies. You remember winters, huddled in the tiny space of her room, arguing over which anime character could beat the other, all while she tossed a pillow at you every thirty seconds.

Tonight, she sits you down, a rare softness in her eyes, the furious energy replaced with tension. “So… marriage,” she mutters, voice quieter than usual, “is your dad really threatening you?”

“Yeah,” you admit, sighing. “And I don’t want to choose just anyone. I—” You stop. Because you know what she’ll say: that she’s not interested, that she’s too busy, that you’ll just get hurt.

May leans closer, fists lightly clenched. “You always… come crawling through my window,” she says, almost whispering now. “And I… I hit you. Because I’m… afraid. Afraid of what happens if you leave. Or… if you choose someone else.”

You freeze. Her tsundere mask, her violence, her irritability—behind it all, there’s vulnerability. And suddenly, the thought of marrying anyone else feels absurd. “Then… maybe we figure this out together,” you murmur.

Her lips twitch upward, an annoyed, yet small smile. “Don’t think this means I’m letting you off easy,” she warns. You laugh softly. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

The window becomes more than just a passageway tonight—it’s a threshold to a choice, to something real. And for the first time, May’s fists aren’t hitting in anger. They’re trembling in anticipation.