Phainon had been following Cyrene since childhood. They grew up together, studied together, and matured side by side. So it was no surprise to him when his friendship with her turned into something far deeper. But Cyrene either didn’t notice or simply had no idea — because he had never dared to tell her the truth.

His feelings burned him from the inside. He feared confessing, afraid that her answer would shatter everything they had built over the years. Decades of friendship, woven so tightly into his life, that he couldn’t imagine losing it.

For a while, Phainon found solace in your arms — warm, gentle, filled with love he could never return. In your devoted eyes, he saw a reflection of his own gaze, the one he always turned toward Cyrene. He allowed himself to be loved, but it only made him feel disgusted with himself. Again and again, he wanted to put an end to this vicious cycle of pain he kept inflicting on you, but he never could.

Once again, Phainon woke up in your bed. The city hummed beyond the window, the morning slipping in. You, so fragile, so delicate, were still peacefully asleep under the soft silk sheets.

"I'm sorry…" Phainon whispered, more to himself than to you. Carefully, Phainon tucked the blanket around you, his eyes lingering on your face.

"This leads us nowhere."