Saki's schedule had three names left.
She looked at them Wednesday evening, sitting cross-legged on her bed with the notebook open in her lap, and thought about order — not the wedding order, which was what everyone else kept circling, but the order of these remaining conversations, which mattered in a different way.
Satsuki and Elena together. Saori last, alone.
She'd made that decision two days ago and hadn't reconsidered it, which in Saki's experience meant it was correct. The first two belonged together because their fears were a kind of conversation with each other — one afraid of losing herself by joining, one afraid of never being allowed to fully join. The third was different in texture, heavier in a specific way that needed its own space and its own morning.
She wrote Thursday beside the first two names and closed the notebook.
