Jay didn't sleep that night.
Not because of regret.Not because of panic.
But because for the first time, silence wasn't protecting him anymore.
It was accusing him.
He replayed her words again and again.
I'm stopping waiting.I'm choosing myself.Don't treat me like something you'll find again later.
He had spent years believing distance kept people safe.
Now he understood something far more frightening:
Distance only worked when the other person kept reaching.
And Miku had stopped.
The next day, he didn't message her.
Not out of habit.
Out of respect.
And that was new.
Two days passed.
Then three.
When Jay finally saw her again, it wasn't planned.
She was sitting alone, reading, calm in a way that unsettled him.
"You look… okay," he said.
Miku looked up. "I am."
That single sentence hurt more than any argument.
"You haven't checked in," Jay said.
"I didn't want to," she replied.
His chest tightened. "Because you don't care anymore?"
She closed her book. "Because I didn't want to fall back into old patterns."
"So this is it?" he asked.
"No," she said gently. "This is balance."
Jay sat across from her.
"I didn't realize how much I relied on you waiting," he admitted.
"That's the problem," she said softly. "You didn't have to choose."
"I'm choosing now."
She met his eyes. "Are you choosing me—or choosing not to be alone?"
The question landed hard.
"I don't know yet," he said honestly.
"Then don't ask me to stand still while you decide."
"I'm not," he replied. "I'm asking you to walk. With or without me."
Miku studied him.
"That's different," she said.
"I know," Jay replied. "And I'm scared."
She smiled faintly. "Good."
He blinked. "Good?"
"Yes," she said. "Fear means you're present."
Jay took a breath.
"I used to say 'leave me alone' because I was terrified you'd stay."
"And now?" she asked.
"Now," he said quietly,"I'm terrified you won't."
Silence.
Not empty.
Full.
"I can't promise consistency," Jay continued."I can promise effort."
Miku nodded. "That's all I ever asked for."
He leaned forward slightly. "And if I fail?"
"Then we talk," she said. "Not disappear."
Jay smiled—for real this time.
"I don't want to hide anymore."
"Then don't," she replied. "Just don't expect me to chase shadows."
As they stood to leave, Jay said, "I don't want you to wait."
Miku answered, "Then walk."
He fell into step beside her.
Not ahead.Not behind.
Together.
And in that quiet alignment, silence finally said what words never could:
They were choosing each other—not perfectly, not fearlessly—
But honestly.