Mao: The Quite One

Chapter 28: Shatter and Stir

It started with a missed deadline.

Just one.

A small report for a monthly student board summary.

Mao had never missed anything before.

The teacher was surprised—but let it pass. "You're probably just tired," she said with a smile.

Mao nodded.

But inside, the pressure was mounting.

Not because of expectations.

Not because of failure.

But because he no longer felt anything at all.

---

Arisa noticed.

"You're distant," she said one afternoon as they sat beneath the tree near the old gym.

"You've been distant for months," he replied flatly.

Her jaw tightened. "You think I haven't had pressure too? You think I didn't have reasons—"

"You cheated, Arisa," he said. Calm. Quiet. Final. "That's not pressure. That's a choice."

The silence between them swallowed the space.

She looked away. "So… is this it?"

Mao didn't answer right away.

He stood up slowly.

"I don't know who we are anymore."

Then he left.

No anger.

Just exhaustion.

---

That night, Mao didn't go home right away. He wandered the streets near campus—his school bag slung over one shoulder, the city lights a blur.

He ended up at the small tea shop near the station, a quiet place most students overlooked.

And there she was.

Rika.

A girl he'd seen once or twice in the library. Sharp eyes. Quiet presence. Never the center of attention—but always observing.

She looked up from her notebook as he walked in.

"You look like you've forgotten how to breathe," she said calmly.

Mao blinked. "...Sorry?"

"You're exhausted," she added, flipping her pen between her fingers. "People like you always are. You keep climbing and forget there's nowhere to sit at the top."

He sat across from her without asking why.

They didn't talk for long.

But she listened.

And when she spoke, it wasn't praise or pity.

It was real.

---

That night, Mao didn't cry.

But he did sleep.

For the first time in weeks—deeply.