Chapter 3

First Steps Toward Understanding

The calculus final was a disaster. Rin stared at the last problem on the page, the numbers swimming before her eyes, and realized she hadn’t retained a single formula from last night’s cramming. Her mind kept drifting back to the pond, to Kiko’s face in the lamplight, to the words she’d spoken that felt both terrifying and inevitable: It’s not sisterly. It never was.

She’d meant them. That was the problem.

The professor called time, and Rin handed in her exam with the sick certainty that she’d bombed it. Outside the lecture hall, students clustered in small groups, comparing answers and groaning over difficult questions. Rin pulled out her phone, automatically checking for messages from Kiko.

Just finished bio. Meet you at the room in 20?

Rin’s chest did something complicated at those simple words. Two days ago, she would have read that text without a second thought. Now, every interaction felt weighted with meaning, every word examined for subtext.

She typed back: Yeah. Need coffee first though. Java House?

Already there. Got you a latte. Extra foam.

Of course she did. Kiko always knew what Rin needed before she knew it herself. That hadn’t changed—but now Rin couldn’t help wondering if there had always been something more in those small gestures of care. If every coffee order memorized, every favorite snack left on Rin’s desk, every “you okay?” when Rin was quiet had been love disguised as sisterly affection.

The Java House was crowded with other post-exam students, but Kiko had snagged their usual corner table by the window. She looked up when Rin approached, and her whole face lit up in a way that made Rin’s stomach flip.

“That bad?” Kiko asked, sliding the latte across the table.

“I might have failed calculus.” Rin collapsed into the chair, wrapping her cold hands around the warm cup. “I couldn’t focus. My brain wouldn’t stop—” She stopped herself, but Kiko’s expression suggested she understood anyway.

“Thinking about us?”

The directness of it startled Rin. They’d been so careful since that night, dancing around the subject, speaking in careful half-truths. But Kiko’s eyes were gentle, not pushing, just acknowledging the elephant that had taken up residence in every room they shared.

“Yeah,” Rin admitted. “About what I said last night. About...” She glanced around, suddenly aware they were in public, that anyone could overhear. “Everything.”