Chapter 4: Kitchen Aono

We safely escaped from school and headed toward my house, a ten-minute walk away. The distance from school had us both winded, so we paused to catch our breath.

“Haa, haa. You okay?” I asked, glancing at Ichijou-san.

“Yes,” she panted. “Keeping up with a guy’s full speed is quite tough, isn’t it?”

Her hand, which had been gripping mine, slowly slipped away.

“Just keeping up is pretty impressive,” I remarked.

Now that I thought about it, I’d heard she was scouted by various clubs but turned them all down, only stepping in to help occasionally and still performing like an ace.

“That’s not true,” she said modestly.

Our wet uniforms had begun to dry under the clear sky. It should be fine now. We instinctively smoothed our disheveled hair.

“Alright, let’s go,” I said, starting to move.

“But, Senpai,” she huffed, her cheeks puffing slightly, “you’re either teasing me too much… or you’re hopelessly bad at explaining things, or maybe you’re doing it on purpose. It’s one or the other, right?”

“Probably the former,” I replied with a grin.

That was a lie. I’d deliberately caused the misunderstanding.

“Liar,” she shot back, seeing right through me.

Our playful banter flowed effortlessly as we walked, like we were old friends. In a way, it probably stemmed from crossing that life-or-death line together. Before I knew it, we’d reached our destination: Kitchen Aono, my home and diner.

My late father was a chef, trained at some renowned hotel. He saved up, opened this place in town, and fell in love with my mom, who worked the hotel’s front desk. Together, they built this diner. Dad preferred crafting homey dishes over fancy course meals, so the menu featured comforting classics like omu-rice, hamburg steak, and beef stew.

Before he passed away from illness, he entrusted his secret recipe notebook to Nii-san. Now my brother, a culinary school graduate, worked tirelessly as the second-generation owner, while Mom handled accounting and served in the dining area.

“I’m home,” I called out.

It was still before noon, so the diner wasn’t crowded yet. Situated in an office district, it got hectic around lunchtime.

“Oh, welcome back. You’re early,” Mom said, looking surprised. She called herself the “poster girl,” but with her youthful appearance—short hair, light makeup for serving customers—she could pass for someone in her twenties, half her actual age.

“Yo, welcome back,” Nii-san’s voice echoed from the kitchen.

“Yeah, I wasn’t feeling great and left early,” I explained. “Then I ran into my kouhai, who was also leaving early, so I invited her for lunch.”

“Oh, is that so? Skipping school, huh?” Mom teased. “You’ve finally started acting out. Fine, it’s about to get busy, so use the break room in the back. It’s rare for you to bring a friend, so I’ll treat you both.”

Mom was pretty understanding, probably because she’d been worried about me feeling under the weather lately.

“Ichijou-san, it’s okay to come in,” I called to my kouhai, who waited outside.

She stepped in, her expression slightly nervous. “Nice to meet you. I’m Ichijou Ai, Aono-senpai’s kouhai. Senpai’s always helping me out… I’m sorry for the sudden visit today.”

Her polite, formal tone impressed me.

Nii-san, likely curious to tease and check out my friend, peeked through the noren curtain and froze. Mom let out an “Oh my, oh my…”

They must’ve been shocked that I brought such a cute girl. Miyuki was quite a beauty, but Ichijou-san was in a league of her own. Both Mom and Nii-san probably suspected I’d broken up with Miyuki, given how I’d been practically a shut-in since my birthday.

“U-Um, uh…” Ichijou-san stammered, flustered by their stunned silence.

“Sorry about that,” Mom said, recovering. “I never imagined Eiji would bring such a cute girl… Sorry for the messy place. Take your time and eat whatever you like.”

She hurriedly tidied the break room and ushered us in.

Despite its name, the break room was decently sized—a tatami room with a large table and a TV. In this day and age, there was free Wi-Fi for customers, so you could watch videos on your phone. Mom, being into new gadgets, ensured the diner accepted electronic payments, played BGM through Alexa, and even had Netflix and YouTube on the break room TV—a thoughtful setup.

I once asked, “Why a Japanese-style room? It’s a Western diner, so why not a Western room?” Apparently, tatami was better for napping during breaks, making it more practical. I found the lived-in vibe a bit lacking in romance, but as the only private room, it was perfect for talking with Ichijou-san about things I didn’t want my parents to overhear.

“Make yourself at home, Ai-chan,” Mom said with her usual auntie energy, calling Ichijou-san by her first name. I was a bit surprised but relieved when she quickly returned to work, leaving us with the menu and cold water.

“Hamburg steak and omu-rice just make you happy looking at them, don’t they?” Ichijou-san said, scanning the menu. “Senpai, any recommendations?”

“Yeah, go for the special lunch. It’s got our signature omu-rice as the main, plus a mini hamburg steak and a bite-sized portion of Neapolitan spaghetti.”

Dad created this lunch, an all-star lineup of the top three dishes. The omu-rice and hamburg steak came with a special demi-glace sauce, aged overnight, while the Neapolitan was old-school, heavy on ketchup with sausage. It included a salad and soup, making it a lunchtime favorite.

“Wow,” she said, her eyes sparkling, and I felt a wave of relief. Until now, she’d seemed more mature than a typical high school girl, but this reaction felt refreshingly youthful.

I passed the order to Mom and returned to the break room. The familiar space clashed with the surreal presence of a beautiful girl, making me a bit dizzy. “Sorry, it’s kind of old-fashioned for inviting a high school girl,” I said, almost as an excuse.

“No, it’s actually refreshing,” she replied. “My family home and the apartment I live in now don’t have tatami rooms. Sitting in one feels kind of fun.”

She’s such an ojou-sama, I thought.

“Glad to hear that. This is Mom and Nii-san’s break room. After the lunch rush, they rest here for two hours before the dinner shift.”

“That’s why it feels so warm,” she said. “Coming to someone else’s house like this is a new experience for me, so it’s exciting.”

“It’s a bit embarrassing for me, though,” I admitted. “The TV for Mom’s foreign drama obsession, Nii-san’s cookbooks—it’s got too much of my family’s personality.”

“That’s a happy thing, you know,” she said softly. “A home reflecting the family’s character is something I envy. Just hearing your conversations, I can tell you’re close with your family, Senpai.”

I sensed hints of her complicated family situation. High schoolers don’t usually refer to a “family home” like that. She was likely living alone, apart from her parents. At a competitive private school with sports programs, dorm life might be common, but our public school made that unlikely. There had to be a story there, but I didn’t pry. After all, she’d been careful not to dig too deeply into my life. On our way here, she had plenty of chances to ask questions but deliberately avoided them—a kindness, like an unspoken agreement not to probe into what we weren’t ready to share.

“My house used to be a warm place like this,” she said, her voice fond yet tinged with wistfulness.

The faint ache in her words warned me not to dig deeper. We kept our small talk light, and after about ten minutes, the food arrived. As the most popular menu item, it was prepared for quick service.

“Here’s your special lunch, Ai-chan,” Mom said, setting down the tray. “As a bonus, you get a free tea or coffee after your meal, so pick one.”

Today’s soup was tonjiru, a daily special that rotated with corn potage, consommé, or egg soup. Tonjiru was especially popular, so we’d lucked out.

“Tea, please,” Ichijou-san replied.

Most customers chose coffee, but Mom’s eyes lit up. “Oh, Ai-chan, you’re a tea person? That makes me happy. I’m one too, you know.”

Mom, a tea enthusiast, always got visibly delighted when a customer picked tea—a little too obvious, honestly. She plopped my B Lunch down with exaggerated carelessness, a clear show of favoritism. The B Lunch was a special beef curry and croquette set, with a hint of demi-glace sauce as the secret ingredient in the curry.

“Enjoy your meal. I’ll bring the tea when you’re done eating,” Mom said, heading back to work.

Ichijou-san glanced at me, her eyes brimming with eagerness to dig in. I nodded, as if giving the signal, and she clasped her hands with a cheerful “Itadakimasu” before starting to eat. After one bite of the omu-rice, she couldn’t help but murmur, “It’s delicious,” her blissful expression a stark contrast to the girl who’d stood on the rooftop earlier. Her face, almost divine in its joy, stirred a quiet gratitude in me for the fate that had brought us together.

We savored our lunch in comfortable silence. The tonjiru, as expected, was phenomenal. The fusion of Western cuisine and miso soup was surprisingly popular, rivaling the onion gratin soup for the top spot among our soups. Dad had added it to the daily rotation, thinking it’d be a comforting reward for dreary Mondays. Packed with meat, root vegetables, and potatoes, it was a hearty, gentle soup that warmed the soul.

“The omu-rice, hamburg steak, and Neapolitan are all delicious,” Ichijou-san said, her voice warm with satisfaction. “But this tonjiru especially feels so comforting. Is this what they call ‘Mom’s cooking’?”

“This is one of Dad’s special recipes,” I replied, unable to resist a touch of pride. “The root vegetables and onions are simmered thoroughly in a big pot with lots of ingredients. Even with reduced-salt miso, the gentle umami gets concentrated, making it really satisfying.”

Unlike me, Dad had been loved by everyone. He’d actively participated in local volunteer events, serving tonjiru at soup kitchens for the homeless, elderly living alone, and kids who couldn’t afford meals. He’d even volunteered in disaster-stricken areas during major earthquakes or floods—a truly kind man, locally known as the “unsung hero.” I was proud to call him my father.

But when I was in middle school, he passed away suddenly in his forties from a heart attack, collapsing while simmering tonjiru for a soup kitchen, of all things. It was so like him. His funeral drew a crowd: a local council member, the mayor at the time who admired his ideals, regular customers, volunteers, and people who’d eaten his tonjiru at soup kitchens. It was sad, but our family felt pride knowing Dad had lived true to his ideals and was loved by so many. Even now, Nii-san and Mom carried on his volunteer work about once a month, and they were considering joining a children’s cafeteria program.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Ichijou-san said, her voice soft with concern. “Was I insensitive?”

“No, it’s not like that,” I reassured her. “I’m actually happy to hear you praise my late father.”

She brightened slightly. “Good. He must have been a kind father. This tonjiru tells me that. You can tell it’s made with care and time. You’re the same, Senpai.”

I had a gut feeling Ichijou-san was good at cooking. You wouldn’t notice the quality of this tonjiru unless you cooked regularly. The ingredients were common, but the careful preparation brought out the umami.

“I’m glad you liked it,” I said.

“Yes!” she exclaimed. “I’m so happy to have eaten such a gentle soup.”

Relief washed over me as I watched her. It felt like the weight of her earlier despair was lifting, thanks to Dad’s recipe. “The soup’s free for refills, you know,” I added.

Her expression shifted, and I noticed tears quietly falling from her eyes. “Senpai, is it okay for me to keep living?” she asked, her voice trembling. “I’ve been struggling with this for so long. Even going to the rooftop today, I hesitated, prepared, and finally made up my mind. But then you, someone I just met, risked your life to save me, and I got to eat such delicious food. For the first time, my resolve is wavering.”

Her words carried a heavy weight. I didn’t know her story, so I wasn’t sure I had the right to answer. Still, as someone who’d also faced those dark thoughts, I had only one response. Her presence had saved me, too.

“I don’t know what happened to you, Ichijou-san, so I can only say something irresponsible,” I began.

“Right,” she murmured. “It’s unfair to suddenly ask you something like this…”

“But I want you to keep living,” I said firmly. “Because you being there saved me.”

She broke down, tears streaming as she struggled to speak. She’d been holding it in for so long, and the tears didn’t stop easily. “Mom, Mom…” she sobbed, calling out for her mother.

In that moment, I saw the real Ichijou Ai—a girl her true age, vulnerable and raw.

Mom arrived with the after-meal tea—Rose and Strawberry, a flavored blend infused with rosé wine and dried strawberries, enhancing the fruity notes of wine and berries. It was her favorite, reserved for special guests. Ichijou-san, her earlier turmoil seemingly eased, offered a lovely smile, as if a weight had lifted.

“Thank you for the meal,” she said warmly. “The lunch was delicious.”

“I’m glad,” Mom replied, setting down the tea. “This is my top pick from my collection. It’s flavored with wine, but the alcohol’s gone, so even a minor like Ai-chan can drink it. It’s great unsweetened, but a touch of sugar makes it feel like pure happiness.”

Mom, a bit of an Anglophile, adored drinks like Scotch whisky or gin. On cold days, she’d add a teaspoon of brandy or wine to her tea for a hot cocktail, a habit that filled the air with a rich aroma.

[T/N: Anglophile, a person who is fond of or greatly admires England or Britain.]

She never let me try it, of course, but the scent of brandy tea, free of harsh alcohol, always made me feel happy. I must’ve looked so jealous that Mom found this Rose and Strawberry tea at a shop, letting me enjoy a similar vibe.

“It’s delicious,” Ichijou-san said, her eyes brightening. “The aroma is rich, and you’re right, it’s better with a bit of sugar!”

“Right?” Mom beamed. “By the way, what kind of tea do you like, Ai-chan? For me, it’s gotta be straight Darjeeling.”

“I like Darjeeling too,” Ichijou-san replied. “Lately, I’ve been into Japanese black teas. For flavored ones, I like apricot or tropical fruit blends…”

“Oh my! You’ve got great taste,” Mom exclaimed. “I’d love to visit a tea shop you recommend. There’s one with a café next door where you can try teas while eating scones or cookies.”

“A place that amazing exists?” Ichijou-san’s voice sparkled with excitement. “Please take me there!”

They were hitting it off, bonding over their shared love of tea. I could only offer a wry smile as Mom grinned. “I’m thrilled. I always wanted a daughter. Don’t just be friends with Eiji—be friends with me too, okay?”

“Yes!” Ichijou-san agreed eagerly.

The women’s chatter filled the room, leaving me to watch their connection bloom.

※

“Well, I should get going,” Ichijou-san said after about thirty minutes of tea and conversation, as the break time neared its end.

“I’ll walk you to the station,” I offered.

“It’s okay,” she replied with a playful smile, though a hint of truth lingered in her words. “It was so fun that I’d feel even lonelier if you did.”

“Got it. Be careful, okay?” I said, a flicker of unease stirring. Just hours ago, she’d been on the brink of despair.

“I’ll be fine,” she assured me. “Now that I’ve met you, I’ve got a reason to stay.”

We left it unsaid, an understanding passing between us. At the very least, I felt she’d overcome the worst.

“Hey, Senpai?” she called softly.

“Hm?”

“We’re already ‘friends,’ right?”

“Obviously,” I said with a grin. “In a way, we became best friends in just one day.”

“Hehe, that makes me happy,” she said, her smile radiant. “Please take care of me from now on, Senpai!”

She politely bid farewell to Mom and Nii-san before stepping out.

──Ichijou Ai’s Perspective──

I left Kitchen Aono, the past two hours perhaps the most joyful of my life. Thinking of my first true friend’s face, I walked toward the car waiting for me. “For now, just friends is fine, right?” I murmured, a quiet question for Senpai, who couldn’t hear me.

“I’m here to pick you up, Ojou-sama,” said Kuroi, the driver, his eyes tinged with concern.

“Thank you,” I replied, returning to my life as a bird in a cage.

※

After Ichijou-san left, I retreated to my room. What should I do starting tomorrow? Going to school was the obvious choice, but fear gnawed at me. Her presence had let me forget that dread, but alone in my room, loneliness and terror surged. “Damn it, I can’t stop shaking,” I muttered.

Walking down the school hallway meant insults from strangers. My shoe locker was always stuffed with trash. Even if I endured the verbal barrage to reach the classroom, cold stares awaited, whispering, “Why’s this guy here again?” or “Can’t he just read the room and drop out already?” I was ignored, mentally cornered. Flowers were placed on my desk, or I sat through classes at a graffiti-scarred table.

I hadn’t realized how much Ichijou-san’s presence had shielded me until she was gone. When we talked, I could forget this pain.

My phone buzzed, likely another attack from a throwaway account. Too tired to block them, I considered deleting my account entirely. Reluctantly, I opened the message, expecting despair—but found hope instead.

“Yo, Eiji. You okay? My phone broke during the away trip. Really sorry,” read the blunt text, laced with symbols. It was from Imai Satoshi, my childhood friend, as close to me as Miyuki, my best guy friend.

Satoshi, on the science track, was in a different class, but we’d been tight since elementary school. “I’m managing,” I replied, barely mustering the energy.

“Good. Can we meet after club? At the usual family restaurant,” came his reply, short and to the point, unchanged despite everything.

“Got it,” I typed back.

Fear had gripped me. After Miyuki’s betrayal, I’d dreaded Satoshi turning on me too. My classmates and clubmates, people I thought I was close with, had abandoned me so easily. The thought of Satoshi betraying me had left me with nothing. But his unchanged tone, treating me as he always had, brought tears to my eyes.

※

I stepped into our usual cheap family restaurant, the familiar buzz of chatter and clinking dishes greeting me. “Yo, Eiji. Over here, over here,” Satoshi called, waving from a corner booth. Club time should’ve kept him busy, but he’d clearly skipped out to meet me. His solid build and intellectual air—framed by those glasses—made him stand out, a true scholar-athlete. As the ace of the archery club, captain of the shogi club, and a top-ten student in our grade, advised by Takayanagi-sensei, he was a high-spec, near-perfect guy.

Normally, he’d be devouring fries, ravenous after practice, but today, only a drink from the drink bar sat before him. “You’re early,” I said, sliding into the seat across from him.

“Yeah, a friend’s in trouble. That takes priority over club,” he replied, his tone hinting he knew more than he let on. A flicker of fear stirred—rejection might follow.

Before I could dwell on it, Satoshi bowed his head deeply. “I’m so sorry, Eiji!” His voice, usually calm and rational, trembled with emotion. “I didn’t even notice you were in a crisis. I’m a failure as a friend. Please forgive me!”

I blinked, stunned. “Huh?”

“I don’t use SNS much, so I missed the nasty slander going around,” he continued, his words rushing out. “We’ve been in different classes since sophomore year, and with the club’s away trip, I only found out what you’ve been going through after school today. You’ve always helped me out, but I couldn’t be there when you needed me most. I’m really sorry!”

I’d never seen Satoshi like this, his composure shattered. “Satoshi, you believe in me?” I asked, my voice barely steady.

“Yeah,” he said firmly. “After school, a kouhai from the club showed me those posts about you. But I knew right away—they’re lies. You’ve never laid a hand on a girl, not once. And Miyuki? No way. There’s no way you’d do something like that. It’s got to be a mistake.”

His words hit like a wave, churning my emotions into a tangled mess. I couldn’t speak, only nod as he went on. “I asked a clubmate in your class and heard you disappeared before morning assembly and left early. I went straight to your homeroom teacher, Takayanagi-sensei. If they tried to abandon you or cover this up, I was ready to throw a punch.”

The thought of Satoshi risking suspension—or worse—for me sent a chill through me. Schools often swept issues like this under the rug; I’d nearly given up, convinced adults couldn’t be trusted. “And what did Sensei say?” I asked, bracing myself.

Satoshi’s angry expression softened into concern, hesitating before he spoke. “Takayanagi-sensei was way more worried about you than I expected. He only learned about the issue this morning and was meeting with students after school to gather information. But he was frustrated—said he wasn’t getting much.”

I nodded silently, processing his words.

“Sensei usually looks so unmotivated,” Satoshi continued, “but when I went to him, he was unusually serious. He said, ‘Please. If you know anything about what happened to Aono, tell me.’ He knew we’d been friends since elementary school. So I told him about the posts my kouhai showed me. Sorry for not checking with you first.”

He was probably worried about my pride, but I shook my head slowly. “It’s fine.”

“And Sensei said, ‘If you can, tell Aono this. It might be scary, but rely on us adults. I’ll take responsibility and resolve this issue. So please, even just a little, trust me.’”

Those words pierced the ice encasing my heart, thawing it bit by bit. In front of my best friend, the dam broke. Emotions I’d buried deep surged out, and tears streamed down my face, unstoppable.

──Miyuki’s Perspective──

I stood outside Kitchen Aono, my heart pounding as I prepared to apologize to Eiji. I’d left school early, driven by guilt, but now, hesitation gripped me. This place, once so familiar, felt like it had a wall barring my entry. As I wavered, the door opened, and I instinctively ducked behind a corner.

A girl in our school uniform emerged. That homewrecker! But as her face came into view, shock froze me. “Ichijou… Ai?”

The school’s idol—brilliant in academics and sports, from a prestigious family, with a near-perfect entrance exam score that set a record. Notorious for rejecting every confession and shunning guys, why was she here? Her expression, soft and radiant, betrayed the unmistakable glow of a girl in love.

As someone caught in the throes of romance, I knew instantly who it was for—Eiji, the one I thought saw my charm. Why, why, why? Why did it have to be Ichijou Ai? She was on a different level, outshining me in every way. Panic surged; I had to see Eiji before she stole him away.

But as I moved, the door opened again, and Eiji’s mom stepped out. “Oh, Miyuki-chan. What are you doing hiding out here?” she said, her tone familiar, but her eyes cold, devoid of their usual warmth.

“Hello, Auntie,” I managed, forcing a stiff smile despite the trembling inside.

“Yes, hello. What’s your business?” Her gaze was icy, cutting through me.

Normally, she’d say, “Eiji, right? I’ll call him right away,” but now her curt reply made me falter. “Um, is Eiji…”

“He’s inside, but what do you want with him?”

“Well…” Her coldness left me grasping for words.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice formal. “As a parent, I probably shouldn’t meddle in your relationship.” The rejection stung, sharp and final.

“What do you mean?” I asked, my voice trembling.

“Ask your own heart, and you’ll know. Actually, I noticed you were cheating before Eiji did.” Her words pierced like a blade. Cheating. Before Eiji? How?

I felt the blood drain from my face, my breath catching. “You see,” she continued, “during a shopping district meeting, while we were having tea, I saw you walking hand-in-hand with a boy who wasn’t Eiji.”

A silent scream echoed inside me. Auntie had always been so kind, caring for me even more than Eiji did. And I… “Of course, unless you’re married, love is legally free,” she went on. “You’re high schoolers, so you might hurt each other or have misunderstandings. I thought Eiji was just too shy to say anything, assumed you’d mutually agreed to break up. It was unfortunate.”

Cold sweat beaded on my skin as I struggled to form an excuse, but nothing came. “I realized I was wrong on Eiji’s birthday,” she said. “He’d been saying since the day before that he was going on a date with you. Then he came home devastated and shut himself in. That’s when I knew—you betrayed Eiji.”

Her life experience left no room for excuses. My mouth opened and closed, wordless screams trapped inside. “That’s not true, it was…” I stammered.

“Sure, you might have your side of the story. But I’m not obligated to hear it, nor do I owe you that. I don’t want to hate you any more than I already do, so please don’t give me flimsy excuses.” Her words tightened around me like a noose, precise and unrelenting.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, looking down to hide the tears welling up.

“I don’t want to hear apologies like that,” she said sharply. “We’ve known each other for over ten years, so let me give you one piece of advice. Love is free, but no one has the right to toy with or trample on someone’s genuine feelings. It might not be a crime, but I think it’s a heavier sin. From now on, at least act with integrity.”

“Can’t you let me see Eiji?” I pleaded, my voice breaking.

Her response dripped with anger. “No way. What mother would forgive a cheating girl who trampled on her precious son’s feelings? I’m not that naive. Ultimately, it’s Eiji’s decision, but at the very least, don’t show your face in front of me again. You’re not worthy of my son.”

The rejection shattered me. Auntie, Uncle before he passed, Nii-san—they’d treated me like family. Being told never to return by those I cherished broke something precious inside me. I crumpled onto the sidewalk, a broken toy discarded.

“No, no…” I sobbed, tears falling like a child’s.

“Sorry, but this is in front of the shop,” Auntie said coldly. “Crying here is bad for business. Please move.” She took down the lunch service noren, gave me a final glance, and said, “Goodbye, Miyuki-chan,” thrusting the irreversible truth in my face. It was supposed to be “See you later.”

I couldn’t move, tears streaming endlessly. My knees, scraped red from the asphalt, should’ve stung, but I felt nothing. My heart was dead.

Somehow, I fled Kitchen Aono and stumbled home. Mom was on night shift but would definitely be there. “I’m back,” I said weakly.

“Oh, welcome back. You’re early today,” she replied, turning from the talk show with her usual smile.

Her warmth cut deeper into my frayed heart. “Yeah, Eiji’s not feeling well, so I went to check on him,” I lied, the guilt intensifying my self-loathing.

“Oh, still so lovey-dovey. That’s great,” Mom said. “You’ve been saying since you were little that you’d marry Eiji-kun. You’re living a wonderful youth.”

Her casual words stabbed like a blade, dragging me back to a future I’d lost. “Ugh, don’t bring up embarrassing stuff like that,” I muttered, forcing a smile. Normally, her teasing would’ve made me shy but happy; now, it was a sharp knife.

I’d known since I was little. When Eiji confessed last year, I’d been over the moon. We were supposed to be together forever—studying for entrance exams, attending the same university, skipping classes for fun outings, working part-time, splurging for birthdays and Christmas. Even as adults, we’d fight sometimes, but we’d marry, build a happy family, and grow old together. Those childish daydreams had been my everything.

“Sorry, midterms are coming up, so I’m going to study in my room,” I said, desperate to escape.

“Oh, okay. I’m heading out soon, but I made curry in the fridge. Heat it up and eat, okay?”

“Thanks! Good luck at work,” I managed, fleeing to my room.

I hadn’t just betrayed Eiji and his family—I’d betrayed Mom too. The weight of my actions crushed me. That happy future would never come. Locking my door, I collapsed onto my bed, gripped by sadness and self-loathing. Clenching my fists, my nails dug deep, blood dripping onto my pink bedding.

A voice inside, filled with disgust, roared, You’re the worst. Why do you keep betraying the people who matter most?! It was a fair accusation, and I resented the scraps of goodness left in me. I deserved it, but the pain was unbearable. My scraped knees began to sting, my despair spiraling.

I couldn’t let these emotions consume me, but my weakened rationality couldn’t hold back the flood. The dam had broken when Kondou-senpai came onto me. I couldn’t stop my feelings from plunging into darkness.

What’s the point of caring about Eiji now? It’s too late. You betrayed him, and now you’re acting innocent? You cheated and helped frame him to isolate him. Did you think you’d be forgiven? The voice in my head hurled venom, pushing my fragile heart to its limit. I ran, choosing the easy path.

All I craved was kindness. With trembling hands, I reached out to Kondou-senpai. “Senpai, I want to see you,” I typed, clinging desperately as I shouted to myself, “This is all I can do now! For someone as awful as me, this is the only choice left!”

I’d become the worst kind of woman, driven by self-destruction, unable to stop my desires.

Clutching the photo of me and Eiji from the entrance ceremony to my chest, I cried silently. I should tear it up, but no matter how much I willed it, my hands wouldn’t move.