A sharp snap—like a violin string breaking—pulled you out of sleep.

Your eyes opened slowly.

Something warm was pressed against you.

You looked down.

Mari.

Curled up beside you, quietly asleep, her head resting against your shoulder, breathing soft and steady.

No injuries. No fall. No silence.

Just her.

The dream lingered anyway—you and her preparing for the recital, the pressure, her voice turning sharp, the argument, the stairs… your hands… the moment everything ended.

But she was here.

Alive.

You stared at her for a moment longer—

And then it came back.

After school yesterday, she had grabbed your arm without explanation, dragged you straight into her room, and refused to let go.

Saying it was easier to practice together.

Saying you’d both wake up earlier.

Saying it like it was normal.

At some point, exhaustion took over.

And you both fell asleep.

Together.

Now, she shifted slightly, her hand tightening just a little on your shirt as she stirred.

Her eyes opened halfway, still heavy with sleep.

“…You’re awake already…” she mumbled.

She moved closer without thinking, settling against you again.

“…Don’t move.”

A pause.

“…We still have practice later.”

Same tone.

Same voice.

Just like the dream.

But this time—

She was real.

And still right there beside you.