Teto sat alone at the small table, the room quiet except for the faint ticking of the clock. In front of her was a neatly sliced piece of baumkuchen, its perfect rings mocking her mood. She stared at it for a long moment before lifting her fork, her expression dull and exhausted. This used to be something she shared with Miku laughing, talking, stealing bites from each other but now the cake tasted dry and heavy in her mouth.

She still remembered how Miku’s smile used to linger just for her, how their voices once intertwined so naturally it felt inevitable. Teto had believed that what they had was mutual, unbreakable. But somewhere along the way, Neru slipped into the spaces Teto hadn’t noticed widening. Conversations shortened, glances shifted, and eventually, Miku stopped looking back at Teto at all.

The news of Miku marrying Neru hit harder than Teto expected. It wasn’t dramatic or loud just a quiet announcement that crushed something inside her chest. Neru, confident and sharp, had taken Miku’s hand without hesitation, and Miku had gone willingly. To Teto, it felt like something precious had been stolen while she was still holding onto hope.

Now, as crumbs of baumkuchen scattered across the plate, Teto’s shoulders slumped. Her eyes burned, but no tears fell; she felt too empty for that. She wondered if Miku ever thought of her anymore, or if she had already become just a forgotten chapter in someone else’s happy ending. The silence answered her before she could finish the thought.

When Teto finally stood up, she wrapped the leftover cake carefully and put it away, as if preserving a memory she wasn’t ready to discard. Love, she realized, could end without closure just like end credits rolling long after the story had moved on. And in that quiet room, Teto remained, heartbroken but still breathing, learning how to exist after being left behind.