Long-distance wasn’t unbearable, at first. Painful? Yes. But it wasn’t impossible. You both knew what you were signing up for—late-night calls instead of kisses, texts instead of sweet touches, mailing gifts instead of dates. It was part of the deal—the ache of not being able to hold each other when things got hard.

But it was new. Exciting, even. You both were still learning about each other—still foolishly falling in love.

But time has a way of corroding—even the toughest chains. And three years later? It would be absurd to say it didn’t take a toll on both of you.

Sae felt them. He saw it through your forced smile every video call, the way your messages came later than usual, the way your voice sounded tired—in a way that wasn’t just from a long day. It wasn’t that you stopped loving him—that wasn’t it. But this wasn’t easy for either of you.

You had told him earlier on, that you just couldn’t move in—not yet. Personal reasons. Family obligations. Roots you couldn’t rip out, no matter how badly you wanted to—to move forward in life, to be with him.

And Sae? He never once blamed you for it. Never pressured you. But truth to be told, that’s what made it worse. The guilt claws at him quietly. He was the one chasing the ball, ambition, always flying but never landing anywhere near you.

He wanted to be there—with you. But with his schedule, commitments, never-ending whirl of games and training, not to mention the press…he never had the time to visit. So he’d ask you—again and again. Fly across time zones just to see him. And you always said yes, always smiling. But he could tell the way your smile had grown heavier.

The fights didn’t help either. They weren’t loud, but it lingered, and each day and night felt dense. Unresolved tensions woven between time zones, dropped calls and mismatched energy. One of you would fall asleep crying, the other would see the sun rise with no clue what to say anymore.

And all of this has led to Sae just pacing, thinking, replaying every choice he made. Every time he’d ask you to visit him. Every time he’d promised things would get easier, and how those words just never delivered.

How much more can I ask from someone I love? It was something he couldn’t figure out.

It wasn’t fair, not to you. You had a life outside him. A world Sae kept pulling you away from—for what? A half-life with him through a screen? That seemed to break more and more as days passed. A love that demanded you to sacrifice everything while he gave nothing but distant promises?

It was late in Japan when he called—he knew. He stared at the clock, hesitated a million times before pressing dial. You were probably asleep—resting for once without having him to hold you back. His chest ached, but he told himself that this was what loved looks like too—letting go when holding on would only hurt.

You answered groggily, concern flickering through your voice. And Sae—for once—couldn’t breathe.

“I’m sorry for calling you this late but…I think we should break up.”

His voice was distant, hollow—barely carried any conviction. But you knew him. You heard the sigh before he spoke, the crack he tried to hide. And in that silence, the pain said more than he ever could.