I approached our usual table in the cafeteria—Jenie had already started to unpack her lunch deliberately, and the roar of the room was halved by students still locked behind classroom doors, allowing the sound of dragging feet across linoleum tile to stand out in the brightly lit lunchroom.

  I sat down with Jenie, who didn’t say anything, but she never greeted me first. Her eyes carefully scanned the pieces that made up her lunch, ensuring everything was in order, even though I had shattered.

  She arranged her bento and the condiments meticulously, but her systems were foreign to me.

  I scanned the room for Sakura but couldn’t find her. The pain in my chest started to stir.

  “Antwon,” I refocused on Jenie, who held me in her stare with her lifeless gaze, and I questioned what Kai saw in her.

  I waited for her words, but I received strange, almost painful, facial expressions.

  “Antwon… I- I’m sorry.”

  Why was she apologizing—what had she done to warrant such a thing, and why did she struggle with every word?

  ”Jenie, why do you sound like that, and what are you sorry for?”

  Clanking trays set roughly atop tables and chattering students filled the space between us.

  ”I’m sorry for not having the cognition to resolve your emotional turmoil during your bathroom spiral. I’m also sorry for my brief moment of linguistic failure. I’m attempting to diminish the prolixity of my discourse to accommodate Kai’s understanding better.”

  I winced at her word choice.

  “You should tone it down more, Jenie.”

  I held my breath for just a moment; did Jenie hear me crack, or was she reading my mind?

  ”Are you—”

  ”No, I’m not reading your mind.”

  I leaned down to remove a bento box from my backpack, and Jenie’s eyes tracked me, studying my face—I’d only need two today because Christine left to take care of clan-related business.

  ”Reading minds drains me mentally because I absorb more than thoughts; the emotions of others are included, which can be overwhelming. As I passed the male lavatory, I felt your call. However, I am no Sakura, who provides emotional stability, and processing human emotions within a mortal shell is exhausting.”

  I pouted—I never told her that Sakura comforts me, which means she read it through me or—

  “Do you talk to Sakura—”

  “No.”

  She answered that question too fast. Something was up.

  “Are you still all knowing, Jenie?”

  She chewed her octopus, and her deadpan expression made it impossible to read into her.

  “Antwon… no. I recalled critical details about the original Antwon and Sakura’s relationship and assumed such mannerisms would continue. However, I could be mistaken.”

  Can genies lie? How would I know if she was?

  She pinched a piece of octopus and placed it in her mouth.

  ”I tried to hold the pieces together, Jenie. But she acts and looks too similar to her.”

  She held another piece of octopus to her mouth but hesitated.

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  “I’m aware of their uncanny traits. However, Tetsusen and Tsukikage are different in many more ways than they are alike. Also, presenting information pertaining to future events could alter the world you knew.”

  My eyes dropped to my bento box. Jenie was right; I had almost told Christina that we had to stay away from each other for the sake of her future daughter, Christine. I wish I had met her before the reset to see what kind of person she was.

  I noticed I had grabbed the wrong bento box from my backpack; this one had layered unagi over rice, tamago slices, a single umeboshi nestled in shredded daikon, and blanched seasonal vegetables. Christina didn’t like Teriyaki chicken, so hers was different. I made a meal fit for a queen.

  I picked up a piece of unagi and held it to my mouth.

  One bite wouldn’t matter—the bento will still be Christina’s. So, why was I so afraid to try—what if Jenie is wrong and taking a small piece wouldn’t cause ripples or whatever?

  I moved to taste the closest thing I could to Christine. What if my impact wasn’t enough to alter anything? I can never have Christine, not in this life.

  “Antwon,” Jenie said, pointing her chopsticks at me, “Stop fixating on them, or you will do something impulsive.”

  I put the unagi back in the bento along with any notions of having Christina and closed the lid.

  “I wasn’t thinking about them. I’m just hungry.”

  She clicked her chopsticks together.

  “I have frequented this dining area; no one holds food to their mouth for that long.”

  I leaned forward.

  “Are you calling me a liar?”

  She brought rice to her lips, “Not at all, Antwon.”

  I couldn’t believe her, but there was no way I could win against an emotionless mind reader. Since you want to avoid discussing this, let’s touch on one of your sensitive topics.

  “Oh. How’s your relationship with Kai?”

  You two seem lovely together.

  She glanced up from her lunch. The air between us felt colder, but I smiled, clinging to positive thoughts about her unusual relationship.

  She set her chopsticks down, giving me her full attention.

  “Antwon… I require knowledge… about—”

  She looked down. Breaking eye contact was unusual for her, and what personal knowledge could I offer her?

  She clenched her fist.

  “Kai wants—”

  Her eyes darted around the room, her lips trembled, and her breathing quickened.

  I reached for her hand to comfort her, and she pulled her hands away, bringing them both to her chest.

  She was acting like a girl, but not just any girl: a girl in love.

  “He wants to—”

  “Jenie… are you okay?” Nakamura’s voice spoiled my moment.

  Jenie, who was still shaking, nodded. But I knew she wasn’t okay because something Kai wanted was strong enough to rattle what couldn’t be shaken.

  “N-Nakamura, may we converse?”

  Asking to speak with her is more casual, Jenie.

  Jenie bit her lip.

  “Sure. Do you want to step out of the cafeteria for this conversation?”

  Jenie nodded. And like that, I was alone.

  I pulled the other two bento boxes out of my bag.

  With no one around me, I felt propitious. Thanks, Jenie. I only needed one, but I had three delicious meals to eat from, just like them.

  I slid my personal bento away because I already had Christine, and she was gone. Christina thinks she claimed me with words alone.

  I pulled her meal closer.

  But she’s cold, even when she’s warm.

  I touched the remaining bento; it was still warm like Nakamura.

  I’ve reached for you, but not too hard; the space between is who we are, so who or what are we?

  I gritted my teeth and pushed all the bento away, sighing.

  Maybe love wasn’t meant for me, or perhaps I was cursed to fail.

  Jenie and Nakamura returned. Jenie's face looked fine, regaining its emotionless vigor. But Nakamura was flushed.

  “Did you still need my advice, Jenie?”

  “No.”

  Quick and cold—she didn’t even look up. But I wanted to know what she was talking about. Perhaps Nakamura could offer me some insight.

  “Nakamura.”

  She jumped at the sound of her name, yelping as if she were pinched.

  “C-Carter, c-can I help you?”

  If she blushed any harder, her glasses would fog up.

  I passed Nakamura her bento box. Strangely, I feel better, like these little exchanges mended my cracks, or maybe I just needed a good cry.

  “C-Carter, will you… Be stopping by today?”

  Nakamura was pressing her chopsticks together, trying to mend their broken bond.

  Nakamura—always warm.

  I smiled at the gesture because she was enjoying her second chance.

  “I’m not walking home alone. You know how that goes, Nakamura.”