Jayna let out a small , wry smile—only then realizing she had no idea when they'd arrived.
"Hey."Ginevra's voice was gentle. "Wake up."
She didn't move away right away. Instead, she took off her helmet and lightly patted Jayna's head where it rested against her back, a touch that was careful—almost protective.
Jayna jolted upright at once, spine snapping straight.
"We're here?" she blurted.
"Mm." Ginevra looked at her and nodded.
"Ah…" Jayna fumbled with her helmet, embarrassed, fingers stiff and awkward. "Sorry—I actually fell asleep leaning on you."
"Careful." Ginevra reached out and helped, slipping the helmet off for her as if she were afraid Jayna's hair might get caught and tugged.
Jayna smiled, shy in a way she rarely allowed herself to be, then lifted her head to look at the restaurant she'd chosen.
A quiet, elegant little cafe—calm lighting, soft music, the kind of place that gave a table space to breathe. Perfect for a date.
She liked it.
She wanted today to feel… gentle.
"What are you standing there for?" Jayna teased, nudging Ginevra with her shoulder. "Do you want me to invite you in like a princess?"
Ginevra stayed where she was, gesturing for Jayna to go ahead.
"I need to lock the scooter."
Jayna saw the way Ginevra looked like she wanted to say something—stopping herself, swallowing it down—and finally nodded.
"Okay. West side," Jayna said quickly. "Window seat."
Then she went inside alone.
Only after she disappeared did Ginevra reach into the scooter's storage compartment and take out a beautifully wrapped gift bag. She stared at it for a long moment, as if the weight of it weren't measured in money at all, but in courage.
How was she supposed to say it?
How was she supposed to place it in Jayna's hands without trembling?
A server approached, polite and gentle.
"Miss," she said, "your friend seems to be calling for you. She looks like she's in a hurry."
Ginevra's fingers tightened around the bag once, then she tucked it close and locked the scooter. Slowly, she stepped into the restaurant.
It really was elegant. The tables weren't packed too tightly, and the space between seats offered privacy—enough that Ginevra could finally breathe.
Across the room, Jayna sat by the window, waving at her.
Even from this distance, she looked unreal—like a figure painted in oil, the kind that belonged behind glass and never in an ordinary world.
Ginevra felt a familiar sting of self-mockery.
Someone like that… how could I ever be worthy?
Still, she walked forward and sat down across from her.
"You took forever just to lock a scooter," Jayna complained, puffing her cheeks. "I was waiting so impatiently."
Ginevra didn't answer right away.
She watched Jayna as she spoke, the rise and fall of her expression, the way her lips parted—cherry-bright, glossy with color. Ginevra drew in a quiet breath, forcing her mind blank.
Under the table, she gripped the gift bag so tightly her fingers ached.
She hovered between hesitation and impulse, stuck.
"Giny," Jayna leaned in, voice lowering into something secretive. "I'll tell you something—today is my…"
"Jayna."
Ginevra's voice cut through, suddenly louder than she meant.
Jayna froze mid-sentence, startled into silence. In her memory, Ginevra rarely interrupted her at all.
Ginevra lowered her head, like she was bracing herself against a wave. Nervous. Preparing.
Then—slowly, awkwardly—she pulled a red velvet gift bag up from beneath the table and placed it in front of Jayna.
Her hands didn't know where to go. She blinked too quickly, too often. Finally, she looked up, eyes steadying as if she'd forced them into place.
And with everything she had, she said—
"Happy birthday."
Jayna stared.
For a moment, she couldn't even breathe properly.
How… how was she supposed to react?
Who would have thought this blunt, quiet person would know her birthday?
Who would have thought Ginevra—of all people—would prepare a gift for her in advance?
"This…" Jayna's voice turned thin. "What…?"
"Jayna," Ginevra repeated, breath catching faintly. "Happy birthday."
Jayna looked at the velvet bag as if it might dissolve if she blinked.
"…This is for me?" she asked again, disbelief cracking through.
Ginevra nodded.
Her fingers moved to the ribbon—tied neatly into a bow—and somehow… she couldn't get it open. She tugged once, then again, clumsy and stubborn, undoing nothing.
Jayna pressed her lips together, smiling through the sudden tightness in her throat.
She couldn't calm the excitement surging inside her.
"It's something I saw a few weeks ago," Ginevra said quietly, voice careful. "I didn't know how to ask what you like. So… I don't know if you'll like it."
She finally gave up on the ribbon and simply lifted the box out, offering it to Jayna with the solemn gentleness of someone presenting a vow.
Jayna took it.
And the moment she did, her nose stung—sharp and immediate.
She blinked hard, trying to force the heat away from her eyes, then opened the box slowly.
Inside was a delicate gold bracelet, exquisite under the café light.
Only then did she notice the embossed logo on the bag.
A luxury brand.
Expensive enough that even looking at it felt like touching something too precious.
"This is… too much," Jayna whispered. Her fingertips traced the bracelet, breath unsteady. "It's too expensive."
Ginevra watched her, and the hope in her gaze was almost painful.
"Do you like it?" she asked.
How could Jayna ever say she didn't?
Even if Ginevra gave her nothing at all—only those two words, happy birthday—Jayna would have recorded them and played them back until the sound wore grooves into her heart.
"Very, very, very…" Jayna said, voice trembling with sincerity. "I love it so much I can't even—"
Then her worry pushed through.
"But it must've cost a lot, right?"
Ginevra shook her head gently, trying to sound calm.
"You don't need to worry about that." She hesitated, then explained slowly. "These last two weeks I've been tutoring someone. I earned some money. And I used what I had left from past scholarship prizes. It… worked out."
Jayna stared at her.
"So you've been leaving early every day because you were tutoring… to buy me a gift?"
"Mm." Ginevra lowered her eyes, still unaware of how Jayna was changing in front of her—how the wall inside Jayna was crumbling.
"Ginevra…" Jayna's voice came out hoarse.
When Ginevra looked up, Jayna reached out without thinking, touching Ginevra's cheek.
Jayna's eyes flooded so suddenly it was almost humiliating.
Tears welled—heavy, unstoppable—spilling to the edges.
"Why," Jayna whispered, voice breaking, "why are you so good to me?"
The tears rolled down in fat, bright drops, one after another.
Ginevra panicked.
She grabbed a tissue, wiping Jayna's cheeks clumsily, then more gently, trying to erase what she'd caused.
"You didn't even tell me you were tutoring," Jayna cried, the words wet and fractured. "Why would you do that? Why would you do something like that and not tell me? You're making it—making it impossible for me to know what to do with you…"
Her carefully done eye makeup blurred at the corners, smudging with the tears, but Ginevra wiped it away softly, as if preserving Jayna's beauty was an act of devotion.
"You like it—that's enough," Ginevra said, flustered and aching. "I wasn't trying to make you cry. If I'd known… I wouldn't have said so much."
Jayna shook her head, tears still clinging to her lashes.
She lifted the bracelet out of the box and held it up like a promise.
"Listen," she choked out. "I'm going to wear this forever. Do you believe me?"
Ginevra looked at her, half amused, half helpless.
Jayna could be unbelievably stubborn.
So Ginevra nodded.
"I believe you."
Jayna slid closer, moving to sit beside her. Her cheeks were still wet.
She held the bracelet out to Ginevra.
"Put it on me," Jayna said, voice soft but fierce. "I'm never taking it off. Not in this lifetime."
"Okay," Ginevra said—simple, faithful, as if she'd agree to anything Jayna asked.
Ginevra lowered Jayna's hand onto the table. The bracelet looked perfect against her wrist, and the tiny diamond star caught the light like a living thing.
"So pretty," Ginevra murmured, almost to herself.
Jayna's breath caught.
Ginevra looked up.
"Do you have a wish?" she asked quietly. "Anything you want for your birthday?"
Jayna met her eyes—straight on.
She didn't have the courage.
But she also wasn't willing to let the moment slip away untouched.
Jayna inhaled slowly, then raised her hand again, fingertips brushing Ginevra's cheek, as if memorizing the shape.
And she leaned in close to Ginevra's ear.
"Forgive me," she whispered.
Before Ginevra could even understand what she meant, Jayna closed her eyes—
and pressed a reverent kiss to Ginevra's forehead.
It was feather-light.
Soft as down.
A touch that barely existed—yet somehow left the entire world ringing.
When Jayna pulled back, her heart was pounding so violently she thought it might split her ribs.
Only she knew how enormous what she'd done was.
It could be the spark that ended everything.
It could be the line that, once crossed, could never be uncrossed.
But she hadn't been able to stop herself.
She had wanted to kiss her—if only on the forehead.
Wasn't it human, after all, to want someone like this? To love someone with such heat that it frightened you?
Jayna had fallen completely.
And the worst possible ending flashed in her mind:
Ginevra would never speak to her again.
That would be hell.
Jayna looked at Ginevra's stunned expression—those widened eyes—and her brain seized on a single lifesaving phrase.
"Friendship kiss!"
She blurted it out too fast, too bright, forcing a laugh that sounded thin even to herself. She poked Ginevra's cheek with her fingertip, playful, as if playfulness could disguise desperation.
"For our friendship," Jayna insisted, over-cheerful. "I, Jayna Stevens, offer a kiss as proof. That's all."
Ginevra listened.
And something inside her shattered.
The joy that had flooded her when Jayna kissed her—gone, smashed into nothing.
She turned her face slightly away, eyes dimming for a moment.
She didn't want Jayna to see.
Because it was ridiculous, wasn't it?
For one heartbeat, she'd thought—
No.
She swallowed it down.
"You're mad?" Jayna asked carefully, watching her like she was watching a fragile animal that might bolt.
Ginevra tugged her mouth into a shallow smile.
"No."
"O-okay," Jayna breathed, relief trembling through her. "That's good."
She glanced at how close they were sitting. Worried Ginevra might feel uncomfortable, she started to slide back to the other side of the table—
and Ginevra stopped her.
"Stay here."
Jayna froze.
"…Won't I be too close?" she asked, suddenly remembering how, when they'd first met, Ginevra had hated anyone invading her space.
Ginevra's answer came immediately.
"Yes."
Jayna's eyes widened. "Huh?"
Ginevra looked at her, and the softness in her gaze was so deep Ginevra herself didn't seem to notice it.
"But I'm used to it."
Used to your voice in my ear.Used to your shoulder against mine.Used to being touched by you like it's nothing.
Habit was the cruelest thing.
Jayna's throat tightened as those words echoed inside her.
She stared at Ginevra's eyes—so rare to see them like this, alive with feeling—and suddenly she was terrified.
Terrified she'd misread it.
Terrified she'd believe, for even one second, that Ginevra might like her too.
Terrified she'd let something slip—some emotion that wasn't "friendship"—and Ginevra would notice.
And then…
Jayna's stomach twisted.
She would think I'm disgusting.
No—Ginevra was gentle.
She wouldn't say that.
She'd simply drift away from Jayna slowly, quietly, until Jayna was left alone with the distance she'd created.
"Ginevra," Jayna began, lips dry. She licked them—an old habit that always surfaced when she was nervous. "What if…"
What if I told you I've fallen for you?
Not friend-love. Not the harmless kind.The kind that keeps me awake.The kind that makes me want to hold you, kiss you, share every foolish little moment—the kind that wants your eyes to contain me. Only me.
Jayna stared into Ginevra's clear gaze.
Then lowered her lashes.
So this was what it meant—to truly like someone.
The heart turned sour with longing.
Wanting them to know… and wanting them not to.
She swallowed.
And changed direction.
"What if," Jayna said lightly, glancing out the window as if she'd only just remembered it, "someone confesses during the first snow of the year? They say it comes true. That you'll end up with the one you love, and you'll stay together. Korean dramas always say that. And they're weirdly accurate."
She sighed softly at the gray sky beyond the glass.
"Do you think it'll snow soon? It usually already has by now."
Ginevra listened in silence.
Confessing in the first snow…
Would it really come true?
Maybe—for other people.
Not for her.
She didn't have the right.
Ginevra's eyes settled quietly on Jayna's face, deep and still.
If she could, she would bury this untouchable feeling six feet under and never let Jayna know—not in this lifetime.
All she wanted—
was for Jayna to be well.