The Red String Between Us Part II: Frayed Threads

第33章 Soft Hearts Settled

      Returning to the office felt familiar but strangely subdued after the whirlwind of the trip. Hokkaido was quiet in early spring, and the world outside the glass walls of the office seemed almost still, as if giving me time to catch my breath. I sat at my desk, mind half on the spreadsheets in front of me and half still lost in the memory of Kenji's touch and all of our special moments. I my neck and then grabbed the necklace I was wearing, the one kenji gifted me

When lunchtime rolled around, I found myself hesitating before sending the message I had drafted to Harum. A part of me felt the need for closure, but another part dreaded hurting him—I could sense, even from a distance, how deeply he cared.

Harum arrived promptly at the café, his usual easy smile in place, though I noticed the subtle tension in his posture. He greeted me warmly, setting a small, neatly wrapped box on the table. "Happy belated birthday," he said softly, his eyes bright yet guarded.

I smiled, feeling a pang of guilt as I studied him. "Thank you... Harum. I really appreciate it. I also... I need to be honest with you about something." My voice softened, laced with empathy. "I've decided to see someone else. I want to fully honor what this may be, and see where it takes me." 

For a brief moment, his easy smile faltered, a flicker of confusion passing through his eyes before he carefully masked it. "Someone else...?" he asked, his tone steady, though just below it, I sensed the disappointment.

I nodded, my heart aching as I reached for his hand across the table for a fleeting moment. "Yes. It's someone I... care about deeply. I know we were getting to know one another, spending more time together, and I didn't want to have you wrapped up in my life. You've always been kind, patient, and generous with me, and I appreciate that so much, especially since I'm so far from family and friends. You have shown me nothing but patience and true friendship."

He exhaled slowly, giving a small, almost wistful smile. "I see," he said quietly. "I suppose its... Kenji?"

I couldn't help the gentle nod. "Yes. It is."

He leaned back, maintaining his composed exterior, but I could see the subtle tightening of his jaw, the faint shadow in his eyes. "I understand," he said quietly. "I want the best for you, truly. I hope... we can remain friends."

He reached for the small box and placed it in front of me. "Consider this a token of friendship. And..." he hesitated, a flicker of warmth crossing his expression, "...for old times." Leaning forward, he pressed a soft, respectful kiss to my cheek.

A flutter passed through me at the contact, a reminder of the feelings I once nurtured for him. My chest tightened as I realized how much this must hurt him, even if he tried to hide it. I offered him a small, apologetic smile. "Thank you, Harum... I really do hope we can stay friends," I whispered, my voice tender.

He gave a faint nod, eyes soft but guarded, and for a moment, the quiet understanding between us filled the space with something bittersweet. Then, with a polite bow and a final nod, he stood and left, leaving me with the small gift and the weight of both the gesture and the closure.

I held the box in my hands for a moment, letting the empathy, gratitude, and sadness settle together. My chest ached as I thought of Harum walking away, carefully masking the disappointment I knew he felt. I silently wished him happiness—real, wholehearted happiness—even if it wasn't with me. He deserved someone who could love him fully, without hesitation or divided attention.

Smiling softly to myself, I set the box aside and returned to work. A quiet warmth filled me as I thought of Kenji, the certainty of my love for him steadying every thought. The past, with its gentle shadows and lingering emotions, would remain a memory, but my future—bright, full, and entirely my own—was already written. And in that certainty, I found a quiet peace, knowing I had chosen the love I wanted to nurture, fully and without reservation.