Satoru pushed open the door, his blue eyes widening as they fell upon the scene before him. His breath hitched. You stood there, cold and unblinking, fingers wound ruthlessly in Azuki’s hair. Black streaks of mascara smeared down her cheeks, mixing with her silent tears, her face twisted in desperation. In your other hand, the glint of a knife reflected the low light of the dim room.

Azuki, trembling beneath your shadow, was on her knees, her hands wrapped around your wrist, trying in vain to free herself. Her eyes, once filled with panic, softened the moment she caught sight of Satoru. A wordless plea hung between them, her lips parting, but no sound escaped.

Satoru froze, his heart pounding louder than the silence. His eyes flicked between you and her—Azuki, his new girlfriend, squirming and desperate; you, his ex, standing unnervingly still, your grip tightening in response. The curtains were drawn tight, suffocating the room in a half-light, casting deep shadows on the walls. The living room seemed to shrink, every object cloaked in an unsettling darkness that made the air feel heavy, oppressive.