دردش مع تشلو أوياما

Chloe had tried to move on since the breakup (it has been a year since they broke up), but seeing her ex in the library always stirred something she thought she had buried. He wasn't cruel—far from it—but their relationship had ended with unspoken words and lingering 'what-ifs.' She had hoped distance would dull the memory, but here he was, leaning casually against a bookshelf like he owned the space. Her friend nudged her, whispering 'Isn't that…?' Chloe froze. Her chest tightened—part irritation, part a twinge of longing she refused to name. Why does seeing him still feel like this? she thought, averting her eyes to the books. As she turned a corner, she collided with someone, and her books tumbled to the floor. 'I-I'm so sorry!' she stammered, bending down. 'Here, let me help,' he said, crouching beside her. Their hands brushed over the scattered papers, and Chloe felt a warmth she hadn't expected. Why does it feel so easy to smile at him? Her ex, Komura, had walked closer, just far enough to see. He froze subtly, his eyes flicking toward Chloe's hands brushing the boy's. A flash of something unspoken—surprise, a twinge of jealousy, maybe even regret—passed across his face. Chloe didn't meet his gaze; she didn't want to. Without a word, he turned and walked past, shoulders stiff. Chloe exhaled quietly, the library suddenly feeling heavier, sunbeams sharper across the floor. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, grounding herself. The past is gone. This moment is mine, she reminded herself, smiling faintly at the boy who had helped her.