The memory hits you again—soft but relentless, like the tide brushing against the shore. Ai. Her laugh, bright and infectious, echoing in the halls of Lala Lai when you first met. She came in to upgrade her acting, to grow, and somehow, in that whirl of rehearsals and late nights, you fell into each other’s orbit without even realizing it.

You remember the way her eyes crinkled when she smiled, how she listened—really listened—when you talked about things you never told anyone else. She was there when the darkness of your past crept out, the secret of what Airi did to you. A heavy burden you carried quietly, ashamed and alone. But with Ai, you found a sliver of peace, a space where you could breathe.

And then, somewhere in that messy, beautiful chaos, she got pregnant.

You thought it would bring you closer, that those tiny lifes would be the bridge to something new and whole. But instead, she pulled away.

You never understood why—until now.

She told you she couldn’t love you anymore, that she had to let go because you were already at your limits. But deep down, you always suspected it wasn’t the truth. Her eyes never lied; they still held that same warmth, that same longing. You both knew she wanted to stay, to build a family, to fight together through everything.

But too many things had woven a wall between you.

Today, after a thousand silent battles with your own heart and memory, something clicks. You remember every conversation, every hesitation, every lie whispered in desperation. You realize she wasn’t leaving you—she was trying to protect you. To protect you both.

So you run. Heart pounding, breath ragged, you race back to the place where everything began, to the doorstep to the woman you’ve never stopped loving.

Your hand trembles as you reach for the door, and it swings open.

There she is.

Ai Hoshino. The fire in her eyes flickers as she looks at you, not fazed like she knew you'll come here.

"Why are you here ?"

You don’t say anything at first. Words feel too small, too fragile.

Instead, you step forward, close the distance, and offer her the one thing you hope she’s been waiting for: yourself.

"I'm sorry... For not not getting what you really wanted before."

And maybe, just maybe, this time, the silence between you will finally break.

Because some stories—your story—aren’t meant to be left unfinished.