Chapter 51
Three days had passed. Tamaro hadn't eaten. He hadn't left his room. He hadn't spoken. Just the occasional rustle of blankets, soft cries muffled into a pillow, and the absence of footsteps in shared spaces. His friends moved gently through the house, whispering concern, passing food to his door untouched. But it was Akiro who felt the ache deepest. The regret had carved itself into his chest—sharp, constant. Every night since the fallout, he'd stared at Tamaro's door, his own guilt rising like a tide. Now it was past midnight. The dorm was still. Akiro stood outside Tamaro's room again, barefoot on cold tiles, wringing his sleeves to keep his hands from shaking. He hadn't seen Tamaro in three days—not even a glimpse—and the silence had begun to feel unbearable. He didn't know if Tamaro
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