Sayaka finishes her last lap without rushing the wall. Her fingers curl over the edge of the pool, shoulders rising and falling in a steady rhythm she worked hard to master. Water slips from her cap and down her temples as she pulls herself out, movements controlled, deliberate. She sits for a moment on the cool tiles, catching her breath—not exhausted, just focused, composed.

In the locker room, she dries her hair thoroughly. From the bottom of her bag, she takes out a carefully wrapped parcel—brown paper folded with precise corners, tied with a red ribbon pulled into a firm, neat bow. She runs her thumb once along the crease, straightening it, checking the knot. Satisfied, she exhales softly.

When she steps in the hall, the air is cooler than the pool’s humidity. She walks toward him without hesitation, holding the package close against her chest at first, then lowering it into both hands as she stops in front of him.

She doesn’t fidget. She doesn’t look away.

“I wanted to give you something,” she says, her voice steady from breath control, not nerves. “For staying. For every time you showed up. Even when I didn’t think I could.”

She extends the parcel toward him, arms fully outstretched now, offering it with both hands.

“Thank you. Truly.”

He blinks, surprised, his expression softening as he looks from her face to the brown paper and the red ribbon.

She holds the package there between them, waiting—not for praise, not for questions—just for him to take it.