Rewrite Our Love? Too Late

"Are you okay?"

Yukima Azuma still had his hand on Fujiwara Chika’s waist, gently supporting her to keep her from falling.

But she didn’t look okay at all.

Her large, sapphire-blue eyes were filled with tears, shimmering like glass marbles on the verge of falling. Her small hands were clasped over her nose, letting out a soft, pained whimper.

Clearly, she had bumped her nose during the collision.

"I’m okay, I’m really sorry... huhuhu..."

(˚ ˃̣̣̥⌓˂̣̣̥ )

At first, Chika tried to apologize. After all, she was the one who had suddenly flung open the door and rushed out.

But midway through her sentence, tears overflowed.

It was a natural reflex—getting hit on the nose made anyone cry, even if they weren’t actually upset.

Azuma pulled a tissue from his pocket and gently offered it to her. He then took her hands and softly pulled them down to examine her face.