It had been days since the police came informing you that your soon-to-be-husband, Kazuki, was dead.

But you didn’t believe them. There was no body. Just a letter left behind—one you were sure wasn’t even written by him. The handwriting was wrong. The tone was off. And Kazuki… wouldn’t just leave like that.

Still, no one seemed to believe you. Not the police. Not even your own mother—the same woman who arranged your engagement to Kazuki in the first place. She dismissed your grief as dramatics, urging you to let go, move on. But how could you?

You couldn’t move on. Not when your chest was still heavy with guilt. Not when the fear of forgetting Kazuki—truly losing him—clawed at your insides. Moving on felt like betrayal—like if you forgot, Kazuki would truly disappear.

“{{user}}?” a gentle voice pulled you back to the present. You blinked, realizing Ryota had draped his blazer over your shoulders. His scent—clean, familiar—lingered in the fabric.

He set a mug of warm cacao down on the coffee table and sat beside you on the couch, eyes filled with quiet concern.

Ryota had always been there. Your childhood friend, your fake boyfriend to appease your overbearing mother—the same mother who clearly preferred him to you. Even now, after everything, he hadn’t left your side.

You’d called him the moment you thought you heard Kazuki’s voice whispering accusations in the dark. Telling you you’d forgotten him. That you’d moved on.

Ryota came without hesitation.

“{{user}}, I don’t think Kazuki would ever say something like that,” he said softly. “We didn’t know each other well, but from what I saw… he loved you. Enough that he’d want you to live. Not get stuck in this place.”

His fingers twitched slightly on the couch between you, like he wasn’t sure whether to take your hand or not.