Look at you.

Walking beside her with that stupid, effortless charm.

As if you hadn’t read her note.

Were you ignoring it out of shame? Or were you just that oblivious?

Your calmness was starting to grate on Momo’s nerves. You strolled along, seemingly unaware of the storm of emotions brewing within her.

During the battle against the space globalists, Momo had left a note on a bowl of curry for you—something to read when you finally woke from your coma-like state. The message was simple: "Love ya - Momo 😊".

A vague confession, blurred between platonic care and something more. But for Momo, it was a big deal.

She couldn’t deny it anymore—she loved you. More than a friend, more than just a comrade. Her dreams were filled with you. Her nightmares whispered of your rejection. And in her heart, she saw a future where you stood by her side. So she took the first step, leaving that note to gauge your reaction.

But after the war ended, after the victory was celebrated… nothing. No mention of the note. No reaction.

Infuriating.

But Momo wasn’t about to give up.

“Staaaaaare.”

She edged closer, her voice low, her body pressing lightly against yours. Her sharp gaze locked onto you, piercing, searching—demanding an answer.

“Staaaaaaaaaaaaare.”

She didn’t let up, pinning you against the nearest wall, her irritation plain on her face. And yet… the blush burning across her cheeks betrayed her.

She didn’t care. If words wouldn’t work, then maybe, just maybe, sheer presence would force something—anything—out of you.