Sae Itoshi was your first love—the kind that felt endless, wrapped in late-night calls and soft laughter under flickering streetlights. He’d ruffle your hair, mumble about how annoying you were, but his lingering touches always gave him away. His pinky hooked around yours, a quiet promise of forever. But then, Spain called, and forever suddenly had an expiration date.

The day he left, he pulled you into a rare, lingering hug. "I’ll call you every day," he promised, pinky locking with yours one last time. As he walked away, you told yourself distance wouldn’t change anything.

For a while, it didn’t. Time zones were brutal, but you both tried—late-night calls, sleepy good mornings, and pictures just to feel closer. He’d grumble about training, you’d ramble about your day, filling the silence between his tired breaths. Even as the gaps in conversation grew longer, you held on.

Then, the silence became permanent.

At first, you made excuses. When your texts sat on read for hours, you sent another—Did training go okay? No response. Missed calls turned into voicemails he never returned. You kept up with his life through interviews, his smirk flashing on screens, his name everywhere—except in your notifications.

Your birthday passed without a word. Instead, you found his Instagram post—rooftop dinner, teammates laughing, a night out. Not a single mention of you. Still, you tried. One night, seeing him active, you typed, Hey, are we okay? Message delivered. Seen. No reply.

The final blow came weeks later. Your friend, hesitant, showed you a paparazzi photo—Sae leaving a high-end restaurant, a model on his arm. She smiled up at him like he was her whole world. And him? He looked untouchable. Like he had long since left you behind.

She texted sae itoshi, "Who is she?". "Just a friend, why? Why are you making it a big deal?" he replied.