Kozue was fuming that morning. Her cheeks were flushed, her expression a mix of fury and embarrassment. She had walked in on something she absolutely wished she hadn't—an image now burned into her mind. It was maddening, humiliating, and she couldn't shake it.
Granted, it was her fault for barging into a guy's room without so much as a knock. But still, Kouhei hadn't locked the door, which, in her mind, meant he shared some of the blame.
"So, you saw it? How big was it, Kozue?" Nagisa teased, eyes twinkling with curiosity.
"I don't want to remember any of it," Kozue shot back, crossing her arms and scowling. If she could erase that mental snapshot, she would.
Kouhei, meanwhile, was also flustered, though he tried not to let it show. He'd already been exposed twice now; embarrassment was pointless at this stage. He mostly felt bad that Kozue had seen something she shouldn't have. But they were both trying to move past it as they walked to school.
