The next morning was colder than usual.
Yuuto entered the penthouse suite with his usual quiet steps, carrying the hotel owner's daily schedule and coffee.
He placed everything on the desk like always.
But he hesitated…
his eyes drifting—once again—toward the lower shelf where the notebook had sat.
It was gone.
Hidden now.
Tied tighter.
---
The hotel owner noticed the way Yuuto looked at the shelf.
He didn't say anything at first.
Just sipped his coffee and said with a soft smile,
> "Yuuto… you seem quieter today."
Yuuto stood up straighter. "Just a little tired, sir."
The owner closed his laptop slowly.
"I always find it interesting," he said casually, "how silence is sometimes louder than words."
Yuuto blinked.
Then, cautiously:
> "Sir… that notebook on your shelf... is it yours?"
There was a pause.
Just long enough to feel real.
Then the hotel owner nodded slowly, folding his hands together.
> "Yes. It's mine."
Yuuto looked down, unsure if he should say more.
The owner watched him carefully… then added, his voice quieter:
> "I wrote it a long time ago. When I was much younger."
> "It's about someone I loved... but could never tell."
Yuuto's chest tightened.
"I… see," he whispered.
The hotel owner stood up and walked to the window.
> "He didn't love me back," he said gently. "He loved someone else. Always someone else."
Yuuto looked at his back, unsure what to say.
But the words in the diary…
They suddenly made sense in a new way.
> What if they were written for me?
---
Later that evening…
Yuuto sat alone in the staff lounge, looking out the window, holding a paper cup of lukewarm tea.
He had a message from Aiden sitting on his phone.
> "Are you free for dinner? I'd like to see you."
He hadn't replied yet.
He didn't know how to.
Because now, his heart felt… confused.
Not because he didn't care about Aiden.
But because another story — a quiet one, tucked in pages — had begun echoing inside him.
He had started imagining…
> What if the hotel owner had loved him all along?
What if he never noticed?
And suddenly, it didn't feel like Aiden's touch earlier that day…
It felt like he was being watched, studied, cherished from a distance… by someone else entirely.
---
Meanwhile, across the city, Aiden sat alone at a table set for two.
He looked at the empty seat across from him.
No Yuuto.
No reply.
Just silence.
He stared down at the untouched wine glass and whispered to himself:
> "I'm losing him again."