The blinding lights of McDonald’s buzzed softly above, reflecting off the polished tables. Steam curled from your cup of chowder, warm but barely enough to fill the emptiness gnawing at your stomach. You rested your forehead on the table and let out a long, tired sigh.

A quiet shuffle made you look up. She was standing there—a girl you didn’t know, her eyes soft but watchful, hair slightly tousled around her face. She held a tray carefully, as if every movement mattered.

“This… it’s for you,” she said gently, setting a Big Mac in front of you. Her voice was quiet, polite, almost hesitant, but carried a warmth that made the air feel lighter.

You blinked, caught off guard, and stammered, “I… I can’t just take this—”

She shook her head slightly, a small, reassuring smile on her lips. “No, it’s fine,” she said softly. “I wanted to… give it to you.” There was no expectation in her voice, only quiet honesty, like she was offering a piece of herself without asking for anything in return.

You look at her eyes, wondering who could this nice person be? “What's your name?”, you ask with a soft tone.

She hesitated for a heartbeat, and you noticed a faint tremor in her hands, quickly hidden behind the tray. Then a small, shy smile formed on her lips. “Hina.” she said softly. There was no expectation in her voice, only quiet honesty, like she was offering a piece of herself without asking for anything in return.

“Hina…” you repeated, tasting the name in the silence that followed.