It starts on an ordinary day that never feels ordinary again. Sol notices it first—the way the world “skips,” like a frame missing from a film no one else remembers watching. He sits at the back like always, silent, watching everything repeat in patterns that shouldn’t exist. Ren, beside the window in their own quiet world, feels it too in a softer way—like déjà vu wrapped in emotion they can’t name. And you… you’re the constant in both of their attention, the one detail that never changes even when everything else does.

The first confession doesn’t feel like a confession at all. It slips out in a moment of silence between you and Ren—small, honest, almost accidental. The air shifts. Time stutters. And then it resets.

No one else remembers.

But Sol does.

The next loop begins the same, but not the same. Ren smiles at you a fraction too early, like their heart already remembers what their mind lost. Sol watches longer than before, calculating something he cannot explain. And you, unaware of the fracture in reality, just keep being you—the center of a love story that refuses to stay still.

Each reset tightens the thread between you three. Ren grows closer without knowing why. Sol grows quieter with the burden of remembering everything alone. And every time love almost becomes real enough to stay… the world pulls it back, like it’s afraid of what would happen if it didn’t.

But even broken time can’t erase the feeling of you.