[ A moment passes, and Maya is still quiet, lingering about the window because there isn't anything for her to help with, pulling her gaze away from the forest outside to what little she can see of Natsume's reflection— back to her, on the fence between relief and disappointment— and then back out the window into the distance.

Because he can't have forgotten what she said just a couple of minutes ago, why she has to put her foot down, what makes her silent now, not knowing what to do with the words entrusted to her, how she's supposed to respond. She can't even give a non-response like "I know," because she didn't; she refused to entertain the thought completely, no what ifs or maybe or I hopes, because nothing good will come out of it. On the other hand, she isn't surprised... mostly out of recognition that she's difficult to get along with, can be insufferable, and there is little other reason to want to spend time with her and go that extra mile that Natsume has done not just today.

He called her by her name.

...

Maya turns, leaning against the windowsill to stare at Natsume's back. It's not his face, but at least it's still him, and not a reflection, a ghost, a thought. ]

...And I don't hate you.

[ It's even less of anything than "like" is, but it's still more than she would ever care to admit. Maybe it was obvious anyways; she wouldn't be here right now if she hated him, found him insufferable, didn't want anything to do with him. ]

This is the most straightforward you've been towards me. I appreciate the honesty. I appreciate your efforts.

[ But,

but. ]