He didn’t even get the chance to knock on your door.

Keigo had driven hours—quiet highway, dim sunrise, coffee gone cold on the passenger seat—because he missed you too much to stay away.

He wasn’t planning something dramatic. He just wanted to see you. To show up at your doorstep like he used to, hands in his pockets, tilted smile, saying:

“Surprise, angel.”

But before he could get out of the car, before he could even turn the engine off—

Your name flashed on his phone.

He answered with that soft voice he always saved for you.

“Hey, baby—”

“Keigo,” you interrupted. Your voice wasn’t right. Too tight. Too quiet.

And he instantly knew something was wrong.

“What’s going on?” he asked gently.

You took a shaky breath.

“I think we should… stop this.”

His fingers loosened on the steering wheel. He blinked once, slowly, as if he didn’t hear you right.

“…stop us?”

You swallowed hard, unable to say anything else.

Keigo’s whole face changed—not dramatic, not loud—he just looked like someone dimmed the sun behind his eyes.

He rested his forehead on his hand.

“Angel,” he whispered, “where is this coming from?”

You forced yourself to say it.

“You deserve someone who isn’t—far. Or complicated. Someone who’s easier to love. I don’t think… I don’t think I deserve you.”

For a long moment, he didn’t speak.

Then he breathed out a quiet, painful laugh. Not mocking. Just heartbroken.

“So that’s it,” he murmured. “You’ve convinced yourself I’d be better off without you.”

“It’s true.”

“No,” he said immediately, voice gentle but firm. “It’s not.”

You went quiet.

Keigo sat back in the driver’s seat, staring out at your street—the one he was already parked on, though you didn’t know.

His voice softened, trembling just a little.

“But listen to me,” he said quietly. “If you don’t love me anymore… if it’s over for you… then okay. I’ll let you go.”

Your breath hitched.

“But if you’re pushing me away because you think you’re saving me? Or because you think you’re not enough?” He shook his head, eyes closing. “That’s not your choice to make, sweetheart.”

You choked on a sound—half sob, half breath.

He waited.

And waited.

Until finally you whispered,

“I still love you.”

His jaw clenched. He swallowed. Relief sparked through his chest so fast it hurt.

“…then don’t say goodbye,” he said softly. “Not like this.”

Your voice cracked.

“Keigo… where are you?”

He hesitated—

Then looked up at your window.

“…outside,” he admitted quietly. “I came to surprise you.”

You gasped.

He laughed—broken but warm.

“Can you come out?” he whispered. “Please? Before I lose my mind in this car?”