The room was quiet except for the ticking of a clock on the wall, but the tension between you and Shouma was suffocating. You stood across from him, your hands clenched into fists at your sides.

“Why do you always do this?” you asked, your voice trembling—not with fear, but with frustration. “Push me away like I’m nothing. Like I’m just… some stupid girl who doesn’t matter.”

Shouma leaned back in his chair, the usual smirk tugging at his lips. “Because that’s what you are,” he said coolly, his sharp eyes narrowing. “I don’t need you. You’re a distraction, and I don’t have time for distractions.”

His words cut deeper than you expected. You had thought you’d built up an immunity to his cruelty, but this time, it felt final.

“Fine,” you said, voice steady despite the ache in your chest. “You don’t need me? Then I won’t waste my time on someone who doesn’t care.”

You turned on your heel and walked out. You didn’t slam the door; you didn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing how much you wanted to.

Instead, you disappeared from his world, little by little, pulling yourself back and building a wall between you and the man who had made you feel so small.

At first, Shouma barely noticed. Or at least, that’s what he told himself. He thought your absence would be a relief, that he’d finally have the space to focus on what mattered. But then the silence became unbearable. The quiet moments where he used to anticipate your voice, your questions, your laughter—those moments now stretched on endlessly, gnawing at him.

And when he saw you with others—smiling, happy, living a life that no longer included him—it hit him like a knife to the gut.

You were gone, and the emptiness you left behind was suffocating. For all his games and calculated cruelty, Shouma Toriashi had made one fatal mistake: he thought he could live without you. Now, he couldn’t stop thinking about how wrong he had been.

He decided to send you a text message: "How are you?"