Ding Dong.
The doorbell suddenly rang.
Kenta looked toward the entrance immediately.
"Mom?"
Kentarou checked the time.
"…They usually come later."
He slowly walked toward the door.
The house felt unusually quiet for some reason.
Ding Dong.
The bell rang once again.
Kentarou unlocked the door calmly.
Then opened it.
And immediately froze.
Standing outside the house—
Was Mr. Kubo.
Kentarou blinked once in surprise.
"…Mr. Kubo?"
_______________________________
Mr. Kubo smiled warmly.
"Good evening, Kentarou."
Kentarou was still surprised.
He hadn't expected him to visit at this time.
Especially alone.
Before he could say anything—
A familiar voice came from behind Mr. Kubo.
"I'm here too."
Kentarou looked past him.
Mrs. Kubo stepped forward with a gentle smile.
For a moment, Kentarou felt relieved.
At least Mr. Kubo wasn't standing outside his house by himself.
"Please come in," Kentarou said politely.
The couple entered the house.
Kentarou closed the door behind them and led them toward the living room.
The evening sunlight filtered softly through the curtains.
Mr. and Mrs. Kubo sat on the sofa.
Just then—
Kentarou's mother came downstairs after hearing voices.
"Oh?"
She looked surprised.
"Mr. Kubo? Mrs. Kubo?"
The couple greeted her politely.
After a few moments of greetings, everyone settled down.
The house felt peaceful.
Kenta was asleep upstairs.
His afternoon energy had finally run out.
Meanwhile—
Kentarou's father was still not home.
Mrs. Kubo looked around.
"Is your husband still at work?"
Kentarou's mother shook her head.
"He went to buy groceries. He should be back soon."
"I see."
For a brief moment, casual conversation filled the room.
Then—
Mr. Kubo's expression became slightly more serious.
Not sad.
Just thoughtful.
He placed his cup down on the table.
"I actually came here to tell you something."
The room became quieter.
Kentarou looked toward him.
Mr. Kubo smiled lightly.
"I'm returning to Japan tomorrow."
Silence.
Kentarou blinked.
"So soon?"
Mr. Kubo nodded.
"My work requires me to go back earlier."
Although he had expected it eventually—
Hearing it directly felt strange.
Mr. Kubo had become a familiar presence recently.
Someone who always laughed loudly.
Someone who always made conversations lively.
Someone who treated Kentarou kindly.
Kentarou quietly listened.
Then Mrs. Kubo suddenly took out a decorated box she had brought with her.
She handed it to Kentarou.
"This is for your family."
Kentarou accepted it carefully.
"What is it?"
"Sweets."
Mrs. Kubo smiled.
"I made them myself."
Kentarou's mother looked impressed.
"You made them?"
Mrs. Kubo nodded proudly.
"Violet's birthday is coming soon."
She laughed softly.
"And since my husband is leaving tomorrow, I wanted to prepare something special."
Kentarou looked down at the box.
The sweets were neatly packed.
Just looking at them showed how much effort had gone into making them.
Then—
Mrs. Kubo looked toward Kentarou and his mother.
"Actually, that's not the only reason we came."
Kentarou listened carefully.
She smiled warmly.
"Violet's birthday party will be on the 21st of April."
For some reason—
Kentarou's heartbeat sped up slightly.
"We would like your family to come."
The words sounded simple.
But to Kentarou—
They felt important.
Very important.
His mother immediately smiled.
"Of course."
"We'd be happy to come."
Mrs. Kubo looked pleased.
"That's good."
Kentarou quietly nodded as well.
Inside his mind, however—
A different thought appeared.
The necklace.
The birthday present sitting safely inside his drawer suddenly came to mind.
For the first time—
He knew exactly when he would be able to give it to her.
21st April.
The date silently engraved itself inside his memory.
Time passed.
The conversation gradually became lighter again.
Eventually—
Mr. and Mrs. Kubo stood up.
They were preparing to leave.
Kentarou's mother walked them toward the entrance.
Kentarou followed as well.
The evening sky outside had started turning orange.
Mr. Kubo put on his shoes.
Then suddenly—
He turned toward Kentarou.
"Kentarou."
"Yes?"
For a moment, Mr. Kubo looked at him with the same expression a father would use toward his son.
A warm expression.
One filled with trust.
"Study well."
Kentarou blinked.
Then smiled faintly.
"I will."
Mr. Kubo nodded approvingly.
"Good."
He gently patted Kentarou's shoulder.
A simple gesture.
But one that carried genuine affection.
"Take care of yourself."
"I will."
Mrs. Kubo smiled warmly beside him.
"See you at the birthday party."
Kentarou nodded.
"We'll be there."
The couple stepped outside.
Then slowly walked away together.
Kentarou stood at the entrance watching them leave.
The evening breeze brushed past him softly.
And as he looked at the fading sunlight—
Only one thought remained in his mind.
April 21st.
Violet's birthday.
And for the first time—
The day no longer felt far away.
____________________________
That night—
The house was finally quiet.
Kenta was asleep.
His parents had returned home and finished dinner.
Outside the window, the lights of Seoul glowed softly beneath the dark sky.
Meanwhile—
Kentarou sat alone in his room.
The only light came from his desk lamp.
His fingers moved across his phone screen.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
The familiar sound filled the room.
He was writing his webnovel.
A few readers had left comments on the latest chapter.
Some were guessing the ending.
Others were asking for updates.
Kentarou quietly smiled.
Then continued typing.
Several minutes passed.
A few hundred words later—
He finally stopped.
"...Done."
He stretched his arms.
His shoulders felt slightly stiff.
Writing always helped him organize his thoughts.
But today—
His thoughts were especially crowded.
Mr. Kubo's visit.
The invitation.
The birthday party.
The necklace hidden inside his drawer.
And—
Violet.
Kentarou leaned back in his chair.
Then his eyes drifted toward a small diary resting in the corner of his desk.
A dark blue diary.
Slightly worn around the edges.
Because it had been used a lot.
Very carefully—
He picked it up.
Then opened it.
Page after page was already filled.
Memories.
Thoughts.
Small moments he didn't want to forget.
Most people would have been surprised to see how much he had written.
The quietest person in school probably had the most words hidden inside him.
Kentarou turned to a fresh page.
Then picked up his pen.
At the top of the page, he wrote:
19/04/26
Then below it—
Time: 10:42 PM
He stared at the blank space for a moment.
Then slowly began writing.
_____________________________
Today was a good day.
Mr. Kubo and Mrs. Kubo came to our house unexpectedly.
Mr. Kubo said he is returning to Japan tomorrow.
I was surprised when I opened the door and saw him standing outside.
Mrs. Kubo gave us homemade sweets.
They also invited us to Violet's birthday party on 21st April.
Now I finally know when I can give her the necklace.
_______________________________
Kentarou paused.
His pen remained above the page.
Then he continued writing.
_______________________________
I also think I've finally confirmed something.
Violet is single.
I know it sounds stupid to write that in a diary.
But I spent days worrying about it.
Maybe even weeks.
I kept imagining things that probably weren't true.
Now I feel relieved.
_______________________________
He stopped again.
His face felt slightly warm.
Even writing those words felt embarrassing.
Still—
He didn't cross them out.
Instead, he continued.
_______________________________
There's still no guarantee that she likes me.
Actually, the chances are probably low.
But at least now I know I haven't lost before I even started.
_______________________________
Kentarou looked at what he had written.
Then quietly smiled.
A small smile.
The kind nobody at school ever saw.
He closed the diary carefully.
Placed it back in its usual corner.
And turned off the desk lamp.
The room immediately became darker.
Only the moonlight remained.
Kentarou climbed into bed.
His eyes slowly closed.
The last thing he thought about before falling asleep was a date.
21st April.
Violet's birthday.
And somewhere inside his desk drawer—
The silver necklace waited patiently for that day to arrive.
A few minutes later—
Kentarou was asleep.
And the night quietly carried the story forward.