“Thank you,” Hana whispered.
“Hana.”
They started walking. The rain drummed a softer rhythm now. Yuki navigated the puddles with careful, hopping steps, holding the umbrella high so Hana wouldn’t have to duck. Every few paces, she would glance up at Hana, as if to make sure she was still there. Moe girl touch advance
As they pushed open the café door, a bell jingled, and a wave of coffee-scented warmth washed over them. Hana realized that being lost had been the luckiest thing that could have happened. The moe girl’s touches—the step closer, the offered cardigan, the lean into her hand—hadn’t been advances in a game. They were the quiet, brave steps of connection. And Hana, for once, was happy to follow where they led. “Thank you,” Hana whispered
“Oh, no, I couldn’t—”