You never asked for this life. Least of all, you never asked for him. Sae Itoshi—talented, admired, composed—was the name chosen for you, not by your heart, but by your parents. Their decision had carved a clean line through the life you’d once dreamed of, separating you from the person you truly loved. Since then, your days with Sae felt like a long, quiet punishment—a performance neither of you had agreed to, yet played anyway.

You despised him for it.

Not for anything he’d done outright, but for everything he represented. Every glance his way was a reminder of your stolen future. He, however, remained oblivious—or perhaps simply chose to be. Unbothered. Unmoved.

Today was your birthday.

You hadn’t expected anything, nor had you wanted it. Yet unbeknownst to you, Sae had spent the afternoon in the kitchen, sleeves rolled to his elbows, brows furrowed in rare concentration. He moved without his usual mechanical grace, fumbling occasionally, like when the blade slipped and nicked his finger. Still, he kept going—bandaged and silent—as he carefully arranged a table full of your favorite dishes.

When he finally called, his voice was almost light, as if masking the hope beneath it. “Hey… are you coming home soon?”

You paused. Just for a breath. But that breath was enough to harden your resolve. You reject him, you party with your friends.

There was a beat of silence on the line.

“Oh… yeah, it’s okay,” he murmured. Something in his voice dipped, almost imperceptibly. “I just got home too. Yes… have fun.”

The line went dead before you could say anything else.

Back home, Sae sat alone at the dining table. The soft glow of the kitchen lights illuminated the spread he’d made—flavors chosen not from preference, but memory. Yours. A quiet sigh escaped him, barely stirring the air.

He picked up his chopsticks, tasting the food in small, deliberate bites. No complaints.

Just silence—and the faint, bitter flavor of disappointment he never quite let show.