As the group left Wondernd, Jiko gged behind, silently vowing o attempt matchmaking again.

  The m, Jiko tried to shake off the lingering thoughts as he walked into css. But as he settled into his seat, he felt the subtle weight of Julie sitting nearby. She leaned in slightly, her eyes fixed on him in a way that made his heart skip a beat. She was wearing a soft smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes—it was calcuted, cautious, almost like she was holding something back.

  Jiko shifted in his seat, feeling unfortable under her gaze. He khe truth now—it was more than just friendly curiosity. She liked him. And it was clear she wanted more than what they had ever shared.

  As they worked on a css project, Julie actally brushed her hand against his while passing him a notebook. Her fingers lihere for a sed too long, and Jiko felt the heat rise to his face. He pulled his hand bastinctively, but the moment didn’t go unnoticed. Julie’s eyes fshed with something—desire?—and then she quickly looked aretending nothing had happened.

  Jiko tried to focus on his work, but the moment stu his mind. The more he tried to push Julie away, the harder it became to ignore her advances. Something deep inside him twisted, unsure of what to make of it all.

  Despite the awkwardness between them, Julie’s kindness and charm slowly begin to chip away at Jiko’s defenses. Her as speak louder than the unspoken words between them, and they carry an undeniable warmth. One rainy m, as Jiko stands uhe school gate without an umbrel, staring at the relentless downpour, he mentally prepares himself to make a dash for it. That’s when Julie appears beside him, her presence as sudden and f as a break iorm.

  “You’ll catch a cold like that,” she says, extending her umbrel toward him. Her tone is gentle, but her eyes hold a pyful insistence.

  “I’m fine,” Jiko replies, his voice curt. He tries to wave her off, but Julie simply presses the umbrel into his hands.

  “Stop being stubborn,” she says with a small, teasing smile. “You’ll be sneezing for a week, and I don’t want to hear you whining about it ter.”

  Jiko hesitates, torween his pride and the practicality of her offer. Eventually, he accepts the umbrel, mumbling a quiet “thanks” under his breath. Julie doesn’t wait for a proper aowledgment; she simply steps bad, without hesitation, dashes into the rain, her figure quickly disappearing into the gray haze.

  Jiko stands there, watg her go, clutg the umbrel tightly. A strange feeling stirs in his chest—an unfamiliar warmth, a pang of guilt. Julie, drenched and unprotected, had chosen his fort over her own without a sed thought. Her was genuine, her as thoughtful, even when he hadn’t done much to deserve them.

  As the day unfolds, that moment stays with him. Later, while passing the library, Jiko’s gaze falls upon Julie once more. She’s seated at a table, leaning over a workbook to help a youudent with their homework. Her expression is patient, her tone encing. The junior looks visibly less anxious under her guidaheir smile timid but growing with every word Julie speaks.

  Jiko lingers in the doorway, unnoticed, watg the se unfold. For the first time, he begins to uand what Tito must have seen in Julie in the inal timeline. She wasn’t just charming or kind—there was a quiet strength to her, a willio give herself to others without expeg anything iurn.

  The realization leaves him uled. He’d been so focused on keeping his distance, on preserving the timeline as he k, that he hadn’t takeime to truly see Julie for who she was. And now that he did, it made everything more plicated.

  At lunch, Julie joins him at his usual spot uhe rge oak tree in the schoolyard. It’s an unspoken ritual they’ve fallen into, even amid the awkwardness. She pces her bento box beside his and toward him slightly.

  “I made too much,” she says casually. “Want some?”

  Jiko eyes the ly arranged box, his stomach betraying him with a quiet growl. He sighs and takes a small portion, muttering, “You didn’t have to.”

  Julie shrugs, her smile soft but unwavering. “Maybe I wao.”

  They eat in silence for a while, the only sounds ing from the rustling leaves above and the distant chatter of other students. It’s a peaceful moment, and for a brief sed, Jiko allows himself to rex.

  “Why do you do it?” he asks suddenly, breaking the quiet.

  Julie looks up, tilting her head in fusion. “Do what?”

  “Be so… nice,” Jiko says, his voice low. “Even when people don’t deserve it.”

  Jiko meant himself.

  Julie’s expression softens, and she leans back slightly, gazing up at the branches overhead. “I don’t know,” she says after a pause. “Maybe it’s because I know what it feels like when people aren’t nice. Sometimes, it just takes one person to make someone’s day better. Why wouldn’t I want to be that person?”

  Her words catch Jiko off guard. He hadn’t expected su ho answer, and it leaves him feeling both humbled and guilty. He realizes how much he’s taken her kindness franted, dismissing it as simple friendliness or, worse, as a threat to the timelirying to protect.

  That night, lying awake in bed, Jiko couldn’t stop thinking about Julie. He kept repying moments in his head: the way she’d looked at him when she’d given him the umbrel, the geone of her voice as she’d helped the junior in the library, the siy in her words uhe oak tree. It was so different from the Julie he knew from the future—Tito’s wife, a woman he respected but had never really ected with.

  The thought made him uneasy. He’d been so focused on not ging the timeline, but now he wondered if he’d missed something important along the way. What if this version of Julie—the one who shared her umbrel, her lunch, her kindness so readily—wasn’t just some deviation from the inal timeline? What if she’d always been like this, and he’d just never noticed or appreciated it before?