Hanabi hadn’t expected Alex to feel so familiar.

  The office floor buzzed with its usual weekday rhythm—keyboards clicking, muted conversations, the distant hum of printers—but when she stepped out of the elevator and saw him standing near the reception desk, it was as if the years between them had folded in on themselves.

  “Hanabi.”

  He said her name the way he always used to, carefully, like it meant something.

  She stopped short. “Alex.”

  He smiled, wide and easy, the same smile she remembered from college—confident without seeming arrogant, friendly without trying too hard. He was dressed well, sharp in a way that fit the corporate setting, but there was something casual about him that made people relax around him.

  “I was hoping I’d see you today,” he said. “HR said you were on this floor.”

  She nodded, still a little caught off guard. “I didn’t realize you were transferring here.”

  “Neither did I, until last month.” He shrugged. “Small world.”

  They walked together toward the break area, exchanging surface-level updates. Where he’d worked. Where he’d lived. Names of people they both vaguely remembered but hadn’t spoken to in years.

  “You’re married now,” Alex said, glancing at her hand.

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  Hanabi instinctively looked down at her ring. “Yes. Eight years.”

  “That long already?” He laughed softly. “Guess time really does move differently.”

  She smiled politely. “It does.”

  There was no flirtation in his tone. No boundary crossed. Just curiosity—wrapped in nostalgia.

  And yet, something about the way he watched her made her subtly aware of herself.

  At lunch, Yuki Morita slid into the seat across from Hanabi, eyes flicking immediately toward Alex, who had just walked past their table.

  “So that’s him,” Yuki said, lowering her voice. “The college friend.”

  Hanabi blinked. “How did you—”

  “He’s been asking about you,” Yuki said, smirking. “Nothing weird. Just… attentive.”

  Hanabi frowned. “He’s just a friend.”

  Yuki raised an eyebrow. “Relax. I didn’t say he wasn’t.”

  That afternoon, Alex stopped by Hanabi’s desk under the pretense of asking about a system process he already knew well enough. She explained it anyway. He listened closely, nodding, thanking her sincerely.

  “You always were good at explaining things,” he said. “Patient. Thoughtful.”

  Hanabi brushed off the compliment with an awkward laugh. “That was years ago.”

  “Some things don’t change.”

  When work ended, Hanabi left the building with a faint sense of restlessness she couldn’t explain. Nothing inappropriate had happened. No lines crossed. And yet, the day felt heavier than it should have.

  At home, Ryan noticed immediately.

  “You’re quiet,” he said as they prepared dinner together.

  “Just tired,” Hanabi replied. The same answer she’d given the night before.

  Ryan nodded, accepting it easily. “Alex settling in okay?”

  She hesitated. “Yeah. He seems… normal.”

  “Good.” Ryan smiled. “Less awkward, then.”

  She smiled back, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

  Later that night, as she lay in bed beside Ryan, Hanabi stared at the ceiling long after he’d fallen asleep. Her phone buzzed softly on the nightstand.

  A message.

  Alex: It was really good seeing you today. Feels like no time passed at all.

  She didn’t reply.

  She told herself there was no reason to.

  Still, she turned the phone face down before closing her eyes—unaware that this was the first, smallest step in a series of choices she would one day regret.