That afternoon, the sky was overcast. Clouds gathered heavily above the buildings of the Arts complex. It did not rain, yet the air felt heavier than usual, as though it might collapse if someone brushed against it too lightly.

Lena walked slowly along the corridor, a thick book held against her chest. She had no classes in this area. Still, she found excuses for herself, calling it a shortcut, a cooler path, a coincidence. Enough to bring her here several times a week.

Voices drifted out from the main studio. Chairs scraping. The soft sound of charcoal and pencil against paper. As Lena passed by, she glanced through the glass window.

Miu sat in the middle row, leaning forward, hair falling loosely along one side of her face. On the easel before her was an unfinished sketch. A corner of the campus. Trees. Passing figures reduced to suggestion. Miu frowned, erased, drew again, then erased once more. The instructor moved through the room, occasionally stopping to adjust a student's posture.

Lena did not stop. She looked for only a second.

Then she kept walking.

⸻

Near the end of the afternoon, Lena sat on the steps of the building across the courtyard. She opened her book, though her eyes did not rest on the page. From there, she could see the studio doors clearly. Students emerged one by one, carrying sketchboards and tubes of rolled paper.

Miu came out last.

She held a stack of papers in her arms, a drawing tube tucked under one elbow, talking animatedly with a friend beside her. They laughed, pointing at something in the sketches. Miu was so absorbed that when she stepped down, she missed the final stair, which was slightly lower than the rest.

Her foot slipped.

She stumbled, papers sliding from her grasp as the wind caught them, pages fluttering across the stone floor.

"Oh," Miu exclaimed softly, crouching down to gather them.

Her friend helped, but one sheet was carried farther by the wind, skimming along the tiles until it slid close to where Lena sat.

Lena closed her book and stood. The sketch lay face down, a faint smudge along one corner. She bent and picked it up, turning it over.

It was an unfinished drawing. Loose lines of tree branches. Shadows suggested but not yet settled. The hand was unsteady in one corner.

Lena recognized the style. She had seen it often enough on the steps outside the studio.

"Where did that one go, Miu?" her friend called.

"Probably not far," Miu answered quickly, her voice slightly strained.

Lena looked at the paper. If it drifted farther, it might be dirtied or stepped on. Miu would retrieve it, frown, try to fix it. But now, it was almost intact. Only a faint mark at the edge.

Lena stepped out of the shade and took two steps forward.

"Miu."

She spoke clearly, not loud, but enough.

Miu looked up on instinct. Her round eyes widened slightly, catching the late afternoon light. For a brief instant, Lena saw the girl in the white dress from years ago overlap with the young woman standing before her.

Lena raised the sheet.
"Is this yours?"

Miu looked at the paper, then at Lena. The moment stretched longer than necessary.

Lena realized then that this was the first time she had spoken Miu's name aloud in seven years. The first time her voice reached Miu directly, not across distance, not only inside her own thoughts.

Miu blinked. Recognition flickered.

"Oh. You are..." She frowned slightly, searching. "You study Economics, right? I see you in the library a lot."

Lena's heart landed heavily in her chest, but her expression remained calm.

"Yes. Probably." She handed the paper over. "It flew over here."

Miu hurried forward, accepting the sheet with both hands, careful as if it might tear.

"Thank you so much. If I lost this, I would honestly cry." Miu laughed, relief in her breath.

The smile was close enough to make Lena want to look away.

She did not.

"It is that important?" Lena asked lightly.

"Yes. It is a sketch for my final project." Miu tapped the edge of the paper. "I barely got started and then it fell. Honestly..."

A voice called out,
"Miu, hurry up. The instructor wants the files before six."

"Coming," Miu called back.

Then she turned to Lena again.

"I am Miu," she said, pointing at herself, as if Lena did not already know. "If we meet again tomorrow, I will buy you milk tea, okay?"

Lena paused.

The offer was simple. Harmless. Something any ordinary student might say. Yet for Lena, it felt like a door opening onto something she had waited for far too long.

"No need," Lena shook her head. "It was your paper. I just picked it up."

"Picking it up at the right moment is a big favor," Miu replied, stepping back slowly. "I can still treat you sometime, right?"

Lena looked at her. Wind lifted Miu's hair slightly, the late sunlight warming her cheeks.

"...Up to you."

Miu grinned. "Then I will decide."

And she turned and ran off, clutching the stack of papers, talking to her friend as her voice faded into distance.

Lena remained where she was, watching. A faint chill traced down the back of her neck, yet warmth settled in her chest. The warmth of having done something that felt right. Right to herself.

⸻

That night, lying in bed, Lena stared at the ceiling.

The scene replayed in her mind. Miu stumbling. Papers scattering. The sketch sliding across the tiles. And then Miu's eyes when she looked up. There was something familiar in that openness, the lack of guard. But there was something new too. Miu now weighed her words. Knew how to joke. Knew how to make others feel at ease.

Lena placed a hand over her chest.

This is the first time I interfered in something of yours, she thought.

It was small. No one noticed. No one was harmed. It could even be called helping.

She saw nothing wrong with it. Everything had been reasonable. A passerby picking up a fallen sketch. If told to anyone else, it would sound like a pleasant moment in student life. Nothing suspicious.

But for Lena, a faint boundary had been crossed.

From watching to reaching out.

Just once. Just picking up a sheet of paper.

And after that?

There was no answer.

Lena closed her eyes. In the darkness, the only thing that remained was Miu's smile as she held the sketch close. Miu's voice echoed softly in her mind.

"Tomorrow, if we meet again, I will buy you milk tea."

If it had been anyone else, Lena might have refused without hesitation.

But this was Miu.

And with Miu, Lena already knew she would never be able to refuse completely.