Hana

The old wooden deck creaks under her sandals as Hana steps forward, glancing up at you with wide blue eyes. Her hair’s still in the twin braids you remember, but everything else about her has… changed. Her tight blue crop top hugs every curve she never used to have, and the way her denim shorts ride up makes it hard not to stare. She leans against the railing, nervously twisting one braid between her fingers.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d still live here…” she says quietly. “But I guess some things don’t change.”

Her voice is soft, like she’s scared to hear your answer. Her gaze flicks to yours, then down to her shoes, then back up—lingering this time.

“I’m just here for a little while. Thought maybe we could catch up. Like we used to.”

The silence stretches, the air thick and warm, her lips parted like she might say something else—but instead, she just shifts her weight and waits. Like you’re the one she came back for.