The following morning, as Aiko sat in her favorite café, her phone buzzed with an email notification. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw the subject line: Gallery Showcase Invitation.
She clicked it open, her eyes scanning the text rapidly. Takashi, the curator from the gallery, had responded to her submission. The words jumped out at her: "We were impressed by your sketches, particularly the emotional depth they convey. We would love to invite you to participate in our upcoming showcase. Please meet with us to discuss the details."
Aiko's breath caught. This was it. her chance to be noticed, to have her art seen by more than just her friends and family. She quickly composed a response, thanking him for the opportunity and confirming her availability.
Her fingers trembled as she hit send.
"Everything okay?" Nana's voice interrupted her thoughts. She'd entered the café, her eyes lighting up when she saw Aiko's expression.
Aiko let her gaze, trying to suppress her excitement. "Takashi got back to me. He wants to meet about the gallery show."
Nana squealed, drawing the attention of a few nearby patrons. "That's amazing! I knew he'd love your work!" She sat down across from Aiko, her grin unwavering. "You're going to crush it, Aiko. I can already see the opening night, you in a red dress, everyone around you admiring your art.."
Aiko laughed nervously, but there was a hint of disbelief in her voice. "It's not that simple. I don't know what to expect. What if they don't like my other work?"
Nana reached across the table and grabbed her hands. "Listen to me. You've got this. You're more than ready." She squeezed her hands tightly. "When are you meeting him?"
"Next Friday," Aiko replied. "I'm still processing it all."
"You've been working for this moment your entire life. Just go in there, own it, and remember, if they didn't like your work, they wouldn't have asked you to come in."
Aiko nodded slowly, trying to believe Nana's words. But deep down, a flutter of anxiety still gnawed at her.
Later that day, as she walked through the familiar streets of Shibuya, Aiko's mind was still racing. She couldn't help but replay every moment from her email exchange with Takashi, wondering if her excitement was misplaced. But as she neared Ryuu's café, something pulled her in.
The café was warm, a cozy refuge from the chill in the air. The sound of soft jazz music greeted her as she pushed the door open, and Ryuu glanced up from behind the counter, offering her his usual half-smile.
"Back again?" he asked, his voice smooth.
Aiko nodded, her mind still preoccupied. "I couldn't resist. It's been a long day." She ordered a cup of green tea and sat down by the window, pulling out her sketchbook.
Ryuu brought her the tea himself, his eyes flicking briefly to the sketches before returning to her face. "What are you working on now?"
Aiko hesitated for a moment. She hadn't shared much about her art with him, other than the sketches she'd done for his café. But something about Ryuu—his quiet demeanor and his willingness to listen—made her feel like she could open up.
"I've been preparing for a gallery show," she said slowly, meeting his gaze. "I submitted a few pieces, and Takashi from the gallery invited me for a meeting."
Ryuu raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised. "That's incredible, Aiko. You've been working for this, haven't you?"
She nodded, a faint smile on her lips. "I never thought it would actually happen. But here I am."
Ryuu leaned against the counter, watching her with an intensity she hadn't noticed before. "I'm sure you'll do great. You've got a way with capturing moments."
Aiko felt her chest tighten at his compliment, but she forced a smile. "Thanks. I'm still nervous though. What if they don't like my other work?"
Ryuu's expression softened, his usual coolness replaced with something closer to empathy. "If they didn't like what you had to offer, they wouldn't have invited you. Sometimes, the hardest part is putting yourself out there. But you've already done that."
Aiko stared at him for a moment, realizing how much his words comforted her. She wasn't used to having someone believe in her so unconditionally.
"I suppose you're right," she murmured.
"Of course I am," Ryuu said with a half-smile. "But I can't be the one to do the heavy lifting, can I? You've got to do that yourself."
Aiko chuckled softly. "Yeah, I guess that's true."
They fell into a comfortable silence, the kind that had grown between them over the past few weeks. It was clear they had something unspoken, a connection that neither fully understood yet. Aiko found herself wishing she could stay in the warmth of the café forever, away from the uncertainties of her own doubts.
By the time Aiko left the café, the sun had set, and the streets of Shibuya were aglow with neon lights. She had her meeting with Takashi to look forward to, but she also knew there was more than just her art on the line now. As she walked home, her thoughts turned back to Ryuu.
There was something about him that she couldn't quite place, a quiet strength she found comforting. But it wasn't just that, his ability to understand without needing to ask made her feel seen in a way she hadn't expected.
For the first time in a long while, Aiko felt a spark of hope, not just for her art, but for something more. Something she couldn't yet name, but couldn't deny.
The days after her email exchange with Takashi passed in a blur. Aiko was caught up in the whirlwind of preparing for her meeting at the gallery, sketching new ideas and refining her technique. But despite the excitement, she couldn't shake the nagging feeling that something was off.
One evening, after a long day of work, Aiko dropped by Ryuu's café on her way home. The familiar warmth of the place wrapped around her, but something in the air felt different tonight. Ryuu was standing at the counter, his back tense, his eyes fixed on something on his phone. He looked up as she entered, but the usual spark in his gaze was missing.
"Hey, Aiko," he said, his voice distant.
"Hey," Aiko replied, her brow furrowing. "Everything okay?"
Ryuu hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah. Just a bit of stress. Nothing I can't handle."
She didn't believe him.