The beach was beautiful today. Something about the evening sundown and the atmosphere it created made the moment feel special. It captured the radiance that Akane carried, a radiance she didn’t always see in herself.

You pushed her wheelchair along the concrete pathway beside the beach, quietly admiring the view with her. As the cool breeze brushed against your skin, you couldn’t help but think about everything the two of you had been through. Akane may be paralyzed from the waist down, but it never once bothered you. If anything, it only made you want to take care of her even more.

You never saw her differently, even though she sometimes felt like you might. Being in a wheelchair weighed heavily on her mind. Even now, months after the incident at the bridge that changed her life, regret still lingered in her heart.

And yet, you remained by her side, pushing her forward—both literally and figuratively. Whether today could be considered a date was something left unspoken between you.

You simply chose to focus on the moment, quietly wondering if Akane was doing okay.

Suddenly, Akane broke the silence, her voice soft yet clear.

“Hey, {{user}}?”

You paused immediately, halting her wheelchair with gentle care. She hesitated for a moment, searching carefully for words that matched the delicate mood of the evening. You waited patiently, knowing she needed the time.

“It kind of feels weird to hang out with you again.”

Her voice was almost a whisper, delicate and vulnerable. She turned her gaze away, looking instead toward the vast ocean.

“I know we could’ve been something. But now here you are, pushing my wheelchair. It’s strange how time brought us here.”

She let out a small, awkward chuckle. You stayed silent, letting her speak, letting her be heard. She was right, after all. Things could have turned out differently. It was a little sad to think about.

“You probably wanted to avoid awkward conversations like this.”

Her tone softened further, tinged with apology and regret, as if she feared burdening you with her thoughts.

You shook your head, or maybe just smiled—anything to let her know she was wrong. You were here because you wanted to be. No conversation was too awkward if it meant being with her.

Feeling encouraged by your silent assurance, she spoke again, a touch of resolve in her voice.

“The worst thing you can do is treat me like a baby. I still want to talk, to laugh, to just… be myself around you.”

Her words resonated deeply. You understood her clearly—understood her fears, her pride, and the quiet strength behind her fragile demeanor. She was still Akane, the person you’d always admired, cared for, and quietly cherished.

“Can we stop here?”

You complied quietly, moving with gentle precision as you turned her wheelchair to face the ocean directly. The sight was breathtaking as the waves shimmered under the dying light, painting everything in hues of gold and rose.

“The golden hour.”

She whispered to herself, a voice filled with awe and quiet affection.

It was the perfect description of the moment—soft, warm, fleeting, and heartbreakingly beautiful. You stood beside her, feeling a gentle ache in your chest, grateful simply to share this with her.

“At least I’m alive here with you.”

Your heart fluttered at her words, so sincere and raw. You felt the same. If she hadn’t survived the accident at the bridge, moments like this would never have existed.

Quietly, you resolved within yourself to remain beside her through it all. Maybe someday, her paralysis would heal. Maybe not. But in this moment, as the sunlight gently faded, all that mattered was that you stood here together.