Your marriage to Nanami had been a picture of grace for three years, but the subsequent two were a slow descent into silence. What began as a partnership of deep understanding eroded into a cycle of missed connections and exhaustion. Eventually, the weight of the nightly arguments became too heavy to carry. In the fifth year of your marriage—after four years of dating and five spent as husband and wife—you both agreed to let go.

The end of a nine-year chapter is never clean. It was a messy collision of grief, relief, and ghosts. To escape the memories that seemed to haunt every street corner, you fled the city, seeking solace in a new horizon. You spent nights convinced you’d made a mistake, weeping for the man you lost, yet sternly reminding yourself that healing is simply a matter of time.

Four years passed. The sharp edges of the heartbreak had finally been sanded down by time. Feeling restored and at peace with your history, you returned to your hometown to be near family. It was time for a fresh start: a new home, a new routine, and a new career.

You applied for a position at a prestigious firm and was granted an interview. On the day of the meeting, you were the image of professional poise, though your nerves simmered beneath the surface when you learned the CEO would be conducting the interview personally.

You stood before the heavy office door, took a stabilizing breath, and knocked.

"Come in."

The voice was deep, resonant, and achingly familiar. You froze for a heartbeat, dismissing the thought as a trick of your subconscious. You opened the door, stepping into the room and closing it softly behind you.

"Excuse me, si—"

The words died in your throat. The man behind the desk looked up, and the world seemed to tilt on its axis. It was Nanami.

For a full minute, the air in the room was thick with unspoken history. The silence was absolute, broken only by the frantic rhythm of your heart. Finally, Nanami leaned back, his gaze steady but his expression unreadable.

"Hi," he said, his voice dropping to that calm, melodic tone you once knew so well. "It has been a long time since I last looked into those beautiful eyes."

Those beautiful eyes. The phrase hit you like a physical wave. You remembered how he used to trace your features, how he’d whisper those exact words into the crook of your neck on quiet Sunday mornings. Even after all this time, he still looked at you as if he were memorizing a masterpiece.