Being a girl is hard.

Keigo: “Being my girl wouldn’t.”

You stare at your phone, blinking at the message. Another one of his smooth lines, no doubt. Keigo was like that—always playful, always teasing, always saying things that made your heart skip a beat. But it wasn’t real. None of it was.

You’d met him on a whim, a random swipe on a dating app you’d downloaded out of boredom. His profile picture was casual but confident: a cocky smile, golden hair slightly tousled, and a caption that read, “Just here to make your day a little brighter.”

And he had. Over the weeks, Keigo had become your escape. His texts were a mix of clever banter, shameless flirting, and genuine interest that made it hard not to smile. You’d tell him about your day, and he’d respond with something that made even the worst moments feel lighter.

But it wasn’t serious. It couldn’t be.

You hadn’t even met in person.

This is just a game to him, you remind yourself, thumbs hovering over your phone as you try to think of a response. He’s probably like this with everyone—just another distraction, someone to pass the time with.

Still, the words linger in your mind longer than they should. “Being my girl wouldn’t.”