The knock came just past noon.

  Aki had just finished tidying the kitchen when Evan peeked into the living room, looking — for the first time since she’d arrived — nervous.

  “That’s him,” he said. “My dad.”

  Aki stood, smoothing her shirt, her palms suddenly clammy.

  “You sure you’re ready?” Evan asked gently, searching her face.

  She nodded. “I want to meet him.”

  Evan smiled and walked to the door, pulling it open.

  A tall man stood there, silver streaking his dark hair, a long wool coat slung over one arm. His eyes — the same deep hazel as Evan’s — landed on Aki immediately.

  “You must be Aki,” he said, his voice low, polished, but kind.

  Aki stepped forward and bowed slightly. “It’s very nice to meet you, Mr. Sinclair.”

  He raised an eyebrow with a faint smile. “So polite. I’m Hugh.”

  Aki glanced at Evan, who looked like he was both grateful and bracing for impact.

  “Come in,” Evan said, stepping aside.

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  Hugh entered slowly, taking in the flat — the shoes by the door, the sketchbook on the table, the folded blanket on the couch.

  “You’ve made the place cozy,” he noted.

  Aki wasn’t sure if that was a compliment, but she smiled anyway.

  They sat around the small dining table with tea and scones Evan had picked up that morning. It was the most British moment of Aki’s life, and she tried her best to hide how awkward she felt.

  Hugh stirred his tea with slow precision, eyes flicking between the two of them.

  “So,” he began. “What brings you all the way from Tokyo, Aki?”

  Evan opened his mouth, but Aki spoke first.

  “Curiosity,” she said honestly. “And Evan.”

  Hugh looked at her — long enough that she wondered if she’d said too much — but then he smiled.

  “Good answer.”

  A few minutes passed in careful conversation — questions about her art, her family, her impressions of London so far.

  It wasn’t cold. But it wasn’t warm either.

  Measured. Guarded.

  Until Evan got up to get more hot water.

  Hugh turned to Aki as soon as the kitchen door closed behind him.

  “You care about him.”

  It wasn’t a question.

  “I do,” Aki said, steady.

  Hugh studied her, folding his hands.

  “He’s always been restless. Always searching. The kind of boy who could never sit still long enough to stay anywhere too long.”

  Aki waited, unsure where this was going.

  “I used to worry he’d spend his whole life moving from place to place without ever letting someone in.”

  His eyes softened.

  “I’m glad he found you.”

  Aki’s breath caught.

  “He talks about you like he finally found the place he wants to stay.”

  Aki swallowed. “I’m not trying to keep him from anything. We’re still figuring everything out.”

  Hugh nodded. “As you should. Just — be kind to each other. Even when it gets hard.”

  She nodded, the weight of those words settling gently over her.

  Later that evening, when Hugh had gone and the flat was quiet again, Evan dropped onto the couch beside her with a dramatic sigh.

  “That wasn’t too painful, was it?”

  Aki leaned against him, smiling. “He’s thoughtful. And sharp.”

  “He’s a lot. But he’s been through more than he lets on.”

  “Like you,” Aki said.

  Evan looked at her. “What did he say to you?”

  She hesitated, then met his gaze.

  “That he’s glad you found me. And that we should be kind to each other.”

  Evan blinked, visibly moved. “Wow. He doesn’t say things like that often.”

  “I think he sees you more than you think.”

  Evan wrapped his arms around her, resting his chin on her head.

  “Then I hope he saw this too,” he whispered. “What we’re building.”

  Aki nodded against his chest, letting his heartbeat anchor her.

  Because that’s what it felt like now — not a passing chapter, not a temporary dream, but the beginning of something real.

  A home not just behind a blue door or in a Tokyo bookstore — but in the arms of someone who saw all of you, and stayed.