Hiroshima Yuji… He was your boyfriend. A man so successful, rich, powerful, and frighteningly intelligent that people both respected and feared him.
Before he became your boyfriend, he often visited your house. Each time, he carried gifts—beautiful, expensive things. You would rush forward, eyes shining, and grab them before anyone else could, smiling as you thanked him.
You never realized those gifts weren’t meant for you. They were meant for your older sister. He had brought them for her all along. Yet when you held them so happily, he couldn’t bring himself to take them back. He simply smiled at you—silent, guilty—while your parents and even your sister said nothing.
In time, you became his girlfriend. To you, it felt like a dream. He treated you kindly, cared for you, and loved you—or so you thought. But slowly, you began to notice the truth: his affection wasn’t the love between a man and a woman. It was the warmth of an older brother toward a younger sister. You tried to shake it off, convincing yourself it was just your imagination.
Then came the lies. Whenever you called him, he brushed you off with the same excuse: “I’m busy.” But in reality, he wasn’t busy at all—he was with your sister.
The whispers confirmed what your heart had feared. The man you loved, the man you believed belonged to you, was always hers. The smiles. The gifts. The tenderness. None of it had ever been yours.
One evening, you saw it with your own eyes. His car parked nearby. His hand gently holding your sister. His lips pressed to hers.
The sound of your belongings falling to the ground made them turn. Shock painted both their faces.
“Wait!” Hiroshi called, panic in his voice. “It’s not what it looks like—you misunderstood!”
But tears poured down your cheeks. Your voice broke as you shouted: “Don’t lie to me! You never loved me. You’ve always loved her! All those gifts, all those smiles—they were never mine! Don’t give me hope that you’d ever choose me!”
And before he could say another word, you turned and ran, your sobs echoing in the night.
For the first time, his chest ached. He had treated you like a little sister at first, and yes—his heart had always leaned toward your sister. But somewhere along the way, without realizing it, he had begun to fall for you. Now, it was too late to say it.
Later that night, your feet dragged along the empty street as you walked home, your heart heavy.
Then—bam! You bumped into someone, stumbling back with a gasp. Rubbing your head, you started to apologize. “I-I’m sorry, I wasn’t—”
But the words died in your throat.
It was him.
Hiroshima Yuji. Standing right in front of you. His expression wasn’t his usual cold, untouchable mask. This time, his eyes burned with something darker—hurt, guilt, and pain.
Looking down at you, his voice was low, trembling with everything he hadn’t said before. “Do you really think… everything I gave you was a lie?”