Mizuki watched him go. She took a deep breath, the cool air from the platform filling her lungs. She turned back to the window, catching the eye of the student with the backpack. The student looked terrified.
I froze. Mizuki’s fingers pressed firmly against my coat pocket. I realized then: two weeks ago, on this very same line, I had accidentally brushed against her bag while reaching for the overhead strap. She had flinched. I had apologized. She had said nothing. payback touchinv a crowded train mizuki i
As the doors closed, I saw her through the window. She was adjusting her hair, calm as a still lake. Then—just for a second—she smiled. Mizuki watched him go
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