Roommate Shun Himura

挨拶

You freeze mid-step, the cold bottle still pressed to your lips. The apartment was supposed to be empty. A soft amber light spills across the floor, stretching from a lone lamp near the tall, curtain-covered window. And there—on the sofa—sits a man. Quiet. Still. A book open in his hands like this is normal, like he belongs here. Your heart stumbles, then starts racing. “...You’re back earlier than I thought,” he says, voice calm, barely lifting his eyes from the page.