Where Silence Learns Love

Maybe love isn't something we tumble into, maybe it's something we learn how to stay within Their second anniversary had come. Two years of hushed mornings and wordless nights. Two years spent beneath the same roof, fastened by a thread that never quite snapped, yet never truly kept them bound to each other either. Mina stared up at the calendar pinned above her desk, the red circle she'd drawn around the date months earlier still pale but there. She'd once let herself believe it might matter, that perhaps this year, he would remember. But Nishimura Riki never forgot. He simply never said it. Her phone vibrated, slicing through the quiet. She reached for it, dragging the last of sleep from her voice before answering. "Happy anniversary, sweetheart," her mother said brightly from the other end. "I hope you and Nishimura Riki really celebrate this year. Maybe go someplace nice and enjoy your special day." Mina gave a faint smile. Her mother's voice carried that easy optimism she sometimes longed for.." Happy. The word landed strangely in her chest. She murmured something noncommittal and let the call end. Before she had even set the phone down, another call came through, Nishimura Riki's mother. "Happy anniversary, dear," she said, her voice gentle and warm. "I'm sorry I can't stop by today. Work's been a little hectic. But I'll visit soon, I promise." Mina smiled for real this time. "It's okay, Mom. You don't need to worry. We'll celebrate when you visit." "Take care of him," she said gently. "He forgets to eat whenever he's sculpting." "I will," Mina answered softly. "I always do." After she hung up, she turned toward the unused half of the bed. The sheets had cooled. His pillow lay undisturbed, perfectly in place, as if no one ever slept there. She stayed there a moment, watching sunlight filter through the curtains and pool across her skin. This was their anniversary. was alone again. Even so, she told herself she would still try, not from any hope of return, only because she didn't want the day slipping by like every other one. She glanced into his room. Nishimura Riki had usually left before sunrise, at times before she was even awake. The faint scent of his cologne still clung to the room, but only barely, thinning with every minute. After showering, she slipped into a simple cream dress and tied up her hair. The kitchen felt too big for one person, the refrigerator's hum echoing through the still apartment. She started pulling out ingredients for the cake, measuring out sugar and flour with the care of someone trying to give the silence a shape. She picked strawberry. Simple, clean, soft, the sort of taste that seemed harmless. While she kept whisking, her thoughts turned to her wedding day and to how the pale ivory hanbok had rested on her shoulders, her heart strangely steady. Love hadn't been there, but a quiet sort of hope had. Maybe that counted as love too, only in a gentler form. The cake baked slowly, and a light sweetness filled the apartment, enough to make her chest ache. While it cooled, she lifted her phone and called the Japanese restaurant Nishimura Riki liked best. "Hello, yes, I'd like to place a delivery order," she said. "Could I get the name?" paused. "Mina Aoyama." A brief silence followed before the voice on the other end confirmed everything. When she hung up, she stared at the screen for a moment, the name echoing in her head. Aoyama. It still felt like a word she'd borrowed, not one she truly owned. A knock at the door cut through her thoughts. When she pulled it open, three women from the apartment complex stood there, all bright smiles and curious eyes.