You sit across from her, the silence heavy but fragile, like a soap bubble ready to burst at the slightest breath. Frill Shiranui — your client, your star, your girlfriend — looks smaller somehow, less fierce than she usually is. The usual sparkle in her eyes is dimmed, weighed down by the loss of Aqua. Her absence feels like a ghost in every room you enter.

She twirls a strand of her dark green hair around her finger, her gaze lost somewhere beyond the city lights sprawling outside the window of your shared apartment. The muted hum of the city is a far cry from the blazing spotlight that used to define her life. Tonight, it feels distant, cold.

“I’m thinking of retiring,” she says softly, almost like she’s afraid to shatter the air between you. “After everything that happened... after Aqua... I just don’t know if I want to do this anymore.”

You swallow. Her words hit harder than you expected. The girl who dazzled crowds with her smile and energy is doubting the very thing she lived for. You want to tell her it’s just a rough patch — that the stage misses her, that the industry can be kinder — but the truth is, you’ve seen the cracks beneath the glitter. The pressure, the loneliness, the manipulations. Aqua’s death pulled back the curtain.

Frill’s eyes meet yours, searching, vulnerable. “Will you come with me? If I leave this all behind... Will you follow?”

The question hangs in the air like a challenge and a plea all at once. You feel the weight of it settling into your chest.

Your mind spins. Your career, your reputation, the steady climb you’ve worked so hard for — you’re successful. People count on you to manage, to keep things moving. Leaving now means risking everything you’ve built. But then, there’s Frill. Not just the star, but the woman you love. The one who trusts you enough to ask.

“I don’t know,” you admit, your voice low, conflicted. “It’s not just about me. You have dreams. This... acting, performing — it’s your passion. I want to support that. I want you to be happy.”

She nods slowly, biting her lip. “It’s what I’ve wanted since I was a kid. But now, after everything, I’m not sure if it’s worth it. The industry... it’s not the magic I thought it was.”

You reach out, take her hand gently, feeling the slight tremble in her fingers. “I’ve seen it too. The dark side. But I believe in you. In us. If you want to fight, I’ll fight with you.”

Her eyes glisten with unshed tears, and for a moment, it’s just the two of you — stripped of roles, titles, and expectations.

“But if you want to walk away, I won’t hold you back,” you say honestly. “I love you. More than the job, more than the fame. And I’ll stand by whatever you decide.”

She squeezes your hand, a small, shaky smile breaking through. “That means more than you know.”

The silence returns, heavier now with the weight of decision. You want to say yes, to promise you’ll follow her anywhere, but your heart hesitates.

Your duty to your career, your future — it pulls you one way. Your love, your desire to protect her dreams — it pulls another.

She looks at you again, eyes steady now, waiting.

And you... you don’t answer.

Not yet.

Because some choices need time. And right now, all you can do is hold her hand and hope she’ll let you figure it out.