Yuki woke to the soft rustle of leaves in the wind. It was a quiet morning, and for a moment, she let herself lie still, staring at the light creeping in through the blinds. Her thoughts drifted back to last night—another evening spent with Hana, another step forward in their unspoken journey.
The air in her apartment felt heavier today, charged with something she couldn’t quite define. She had been drawing for hours after Hana left, sketching the two trees until her fingers ached. The lines had come easily, but now, the page before her felt like a map to a place she wasn’t sure she was ready to explore.
It had been weeks since that first coffee, and yet, each encounter with Hana felt like a first. A new discovery, an unraveling of something tender and fragile. But Yuki couldn’t ignore the gnawing feeling that lingered in the back of her mind—the fear of getting too close - of revealing too much.
She stood and moved to the window, watching the city stir to life outside. The world beyond her studio was noisy and chaotic, but here, in this small space, everything felt still. A soft contrast to the storm brewing within her.
Her phone buzzed, breaking her thoughts.
Hana: “Hey, I was thinking… Would you like to go for a walk in the park this afternoon? I know a quiet spot near the lake. It might be nice to just relax for a bit.”
Yuki stared at the message, her heart beating a little faster than usual. She had been to the park before, but never with someone else. The idea of spending more time with Hana, away from the galleries and cafés, felt different. More intimate, somehow.
She bit her lip, her fingers hovering over the screen. Was she ready for this? Was she ready to spend time with Hana outside the safe walls of her studio to show her a part of herself that she usually kept hidden?
Yuki: “That sounds nice. I’d love to.”
Her thumb pressed send before she could second-guess herself. The message was simple, but it felt like a small victory. Maybe she could do this—maybe, for once, she could let herself be vulnerable and open to whatever this connection with Hana could become.
The afternoon arrived slowly, with the sun high in the sky, casting long shadows across the streets. Yuki walked to the park, her sketchpad tucked under her arm. She hadn’t brought it with her the last few times they met, but today, she felt the urge to carry it. To have something in her hands, something to ground her in case the silence between them grew too thick.
She reached the park and found Hana sitting on a bench by the lake, her coat wrapped tightly around her. The sight of Hana sitting there, her gaze distant as she watched the water, sent a rush of warmth through Yuki.
“Hey,” Yuki called softly, stepping closer.
Hana turned, and her face lit up with that same smile that always made Yuki’s heart skip. “Hi,” she said, standing up to greet her. “I’m glad you came.”
Yuki smiled, though her nerves were starting to show. She sat down next to Hana, keeping a careful distance, but not too far. She didn’t want to overwhelm herself, but she also didn’t want to pull away.
They sat in silence for a while, the only sound the gentle lapping of water against the shore and the occasional bird call. Yuki found herself stealing glances at Hana, at the way the sunlight caught in her hair, at the quiet curve of her profile.
“I come here when I need to think,” Hana said after a while, her voice soft. “It’s peaceful.”
“I can see that,” Yuki replied, her gaze shifting to the water. “I think I need peace too.”
Hana turned to face her, her eyes full of understanding. “It’s been a crazy few weeks, hasn’t it?”
Yuki nodded. “I don’t know if I’m ready for… all of this.”
“All of what?” Hana asked, her tone gentle, almost hesitant.
Yuki swallowed, trying to find the right words. “Everything. Being… close to someone. It’s always been easier for me to keep things at a distance. But with you… it feels different.”
Hana’s eyes softened, and she moved a little closer, her voice steady. “I get it. I’ve been there too. But, Yuki, you don’t have to be ready for everything all at once. We can take it slow. Just… be in the moment. That’s all I’m asking.”
Yuki’s heart thudded painfully in her chest. There was so much she wanted to say—so much she wanted to reveal—but the words stayed caught in her throat. How could she explain the way Hana’s presence made her feel both grounded and unmoored at the same time? How could she tell her that the fear she had always carried now felt less heavy, but still, it lingered?
Instead, she took a deep breath and opened her sketchpad, handing it to Hana. “I brought this,” she said quietly. “I wanted to show you.”
Hana took the sketchpad from her, flipping it open to reveal the drawing of the two trees. The branches were no longer tentative; they were strong, entwined, holding each other up in a way that felt both fragile and permanent.
Hana looked at the drawing for a long moment, her eyes tracing the lines, the subtle shading. “It’s beautiful,” she whispered. “It feels like… like they belong together.”
Yuki nodded, her gaze focused on the drawing rather than Hana’s face. “I think they do.”
Hana turned the page, revealing the new sketch Yuki had started—the two trees - but now surrounded by a sprawling forest, with smaller trees growing between them. The image felt even more alive than the last.
“You’ve added more to it,” Hana said softly, her voice filled with admiration. “It’s like they’ve found a place to grow.”
Yuki smiled, her heart a little lighter. “Maybe they have.”
Hana’s eyes met hers, and for a moment, the world around them seemed to fade. The tension that had been lingering between them began to dissolve, replaced by something quiet and steady. The trees in the drawing weren’t the only things growing—so was the connection between them.
“I’m glad we’re here,” Hana said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Together.”
Yuki’s chest tightened, and without thinking, she reached out, her hand brushing Hana’s. The contact was light and tentative, but it was enough to send a shiver down her spine.
“I’m glad too,” Yuki whispered back, her heart full of something she couldn’t name.
The trees had found their place to grow, and maybe, just maybe, so had Yuki.
