Rewrite Our Love? Too Late

"Does it suit me?"

Kato Megumi's soft voice floated through the quiet store.

Yukima Azuma looked up.

Megumi stood in front of a mirror, lightly tugging at the hem of a beige hoodie and adjusting the baseball cap atop her head. It was a simple, sporty look—nothing extravagant, nothing overly styled. And yet, somehow, it fit her perfectly. It didn't try to draw attention, but it effortlessly did.

Azuma blinked. Then, he smiled.

Her expression, subtle but expectant, carried an unspoken magic—something that tugged gently at the heart.

"Far beyond expectations," he said truthfully. "Megumi looks very attractive in a sporty style."

Then, perhaps realizing he hadn't properly complimented her when they first met, he added with a laugh, "Honestly, whether it's cute or sporty, Megumi could easily conquer the fashion world. Has no one invited you to be a model yet?"

For a brief moment, Megumi narrowed her eyes playfully, as if she had been planning to stealthily jab his waist in retaliation for his earlier aloofness. But with the sudden compliment, her mischief melted away.

Instead, she beamed.

Being seen—truly noticed—was rare for her. It wasn't just the praise. It was the fact that it had come from him.