IPZZ-523 Momonogi Kana: What Her Silence Meant

The Seat Beside Her

Kana had her jacket folded across her knees when I arrived.

She sat at the end of the hotel sofa, beside a senior colleague who was telling a story everyone seemed determined to enjoy.

“You finally made it,” our manager said. “Pull up a chair.”

I sat near the door.

Momonogi Kana,, drew attention wherever she went in the office. Months earlier, she and I had stayed out after dinner, walking slowly enough to miss two trains. At some point, her hand had found mine.

Neither of us had explained what that meant.

Watching her smile at the man beside her, I wondered whether I had imagined more than there was.

Then he said something else. She laughed briefly and looked down.

I remembered the laugh. I missed everything that followed it.

An Evening That Would Not End

The work was finished. Our bags were packed for the morning. Still, every attempt Kana made to end the evening became another reason for her to stay.

“I should check tomorrow’s presentation,” she said.

“You’ve checked it enough.”

Someone asked her to imitate a client. When she declined, he insisted she had done it perfectly earlier.

Then the conversation turned towards her private life.

Who did she like? Was there someone at the office? Why was she being so secretive?

Kana placed her glass on the table.

“I’d rather not answer that.”

Her refusal became another joke.

I watched the senior colleague lean towards her and felt the old uncertainty tighten in my chest. I was so occupied with the possibility that she preferred him that I failed to notice the space she kept trying to make between them.

“I’m going back to my room,” she said.

Our manager started another story.

A few minutes later, she tried again.

The man beside her answered, “Wait until he’s finished.”

Only then did I notice her closed bag, her phone in her hand, the jacket she had never put aside.

The Answer Nobody Wanted

Our manager turned towards her.

“You want to stay with us, don’t you?”

Kana said nothing.

“Come on. You can answer.”

She lifted her head.

“I’ve already said I want to leave.”

Someone laughed and told her not to take everything so seriously.

I stood and moved the chair blocking the narrow passage beside the table.

“She wants to go.”

Our manager looked at me.

“Since when do you speak for her?”

I stopped. For once, he had asked a question I needed to consider.

I turned to Kana.

“Do you want to leave now?”

“Yes.”

There was no hesitation.

I opened the door. She stood, collected her things and walked past the table.

Someone remarked that the night was still young.

“Good night,” she said.

I followed her into the corridor. The door closed behind us, cutting off the conversation halfway through a sentence.

Outside the Lift

Kana walked quickly until we reached the lift.

Then she stopped to straighten a sleeve that had become creased beneath her fingers.

“Were you angry with me?” she asked.

I admitted that I had misunderstood her smile and the man sitting beside her.

She watched the numbers above the lift.

“I was trying to leave before you arrived.”

I thought of the jacket on her knees.

“I should have asked.”

“Yes,” she said quietly. “You should have.”

The lift arrived, but she remained beside me for a moment.

“When we haven’t talked about something, please don’t decide what I mean.”

I nodded.

I held the door while she stepped inside. Once she had turned around, she caught my sleeve between two fingers.

“Are you coming?”

“If you want me to.”

She moved slightly, leaving space beside her.

The following morning, she approached me in the lobby before anyone else joined us.

“There’s something we never finished talking about,” she said.

I knew which conversation she meant. This time, I waited for her to continue.

“After we get home?”

“Yes,” I said. “Whenever you’re ready.”

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