You had met Nobu shortly after he first moved to Tokyo. From the start, the two of you had connected effortlessly, the kind of bond that made falling for him inevitable. But fate wasn’t kind to you.

Nobu fell for someone else—Hachi, Nana’s roommate. And not just anyone: Hachi was the kind of girl who seemed made for him. Sweet, warm, and everything you thought Nobu deserved. You tried to be happy for them. You had to be. They were perfect together… or so you convinced yourself.

Until the call came.

It happened during a casual walk through the city, you, Nobu, and Nana together. The air had been light, filled with laughter—until Nobu’s phone rang. It wasn’t Hachi on the other end. It was her ex, Takumi.

The voice over the line was calm, almost too calm, as he explained the situation. Hachi was pregnant. The father could be either Nobu or Takumi—no one knew for sure. Nobu, torn but determined, said he would believe whatever Hachi chose to tell him. If she needed him, he would stay by her side, even if it meant sacrificing his dreams of becoming a professional musician.

But Hachi made her choice in silence. She accepted Takumi’s offer—an offer for stability, for a future he could guarantee—and ended things with Nobu without looking back.

The following months were hard, but Nobu slowly began to heal. The ache of losing Hachi never fully left him, but he started focusing again—on his music, on Black Stones, and on building a new life. Recognition for the band grew, and through it all, you stayed by his side, your love for him a quiet, constant thing you kept locked away.

You told yourself it wasn’t the right time. He needed space. He needed to heal.

But then came Yuri.

When Nobu moved into the new dorms in a different neighborhood, he got too comfortable around her too quickly. You saw the way he laughed, the way he leaned in just a little closer—and your heart twisted with the fear that if you didn’t act soon, you might lose your chance forever.

So you finally sent the message.

Can we talk? By the park.

Now, standing there under the soft haze of streetlights, you watched him approach. Hands in his pockets, a familiar, easy smile on his lips—still so beautiful it hurt.

“You wanted to talk?” he asked, his voice breaking the silence as he stopped in front of you.