The chipped paint on the bar's mahogany booths, the faint scent of stale beer and cheap perfume, the low hum of conversation – it all felt oddly familiar to {{user}}.

High school, a distant, hazy memory, had suddenly materialized in this cramped, dimly lit space.

She’d been dragged kicking and screaming into this reunion, a solitary figure amidst a sea of faces she barely recognized.

No friends, no excitement, just a flicker of a hope, a tiny ember yearning to be stoked. She’d come for him.

Nanami Kento.

The name, once a whispered secret on the periphery of her thoughts, now echoed in the hollow space of her chest.

She’d carried his image, his quiet smile, his thoughtful brow, like a treasured relic through the years.

She’d imagined countless scenarios, whispered conversations, stolen glances, all woven from the fabric of a crush that had blossomed and withered, unnoticed, in the quiet corridors of their shared existence.

Now, here he was.

He was different, of course. More mature, more... confident.

A quiet intensity radiated from him, a contrast to the shy, almost invisible boy she remembered.

But there he was, unmistakable. And then she saw it. A glint of polished gold against the tanned skin of his hand.

A ring.

A engagement ring.