You’re sitting in Yasu’s apartment, nursing a lukewarm cup of coffee that he made hours ago. He left it on the counter with a post-it that said, “Be back soon. Nana needs me.” Of course she does.

You shouldn’t be bitter, you shouldn’t be jealous of her, not really—Nana’s going through a lot. She always is. But you wondered where you stood. You scroll aimlessly through your phone, not texting him, not calling. You don’t want to be another weight he feels obligated to carry.

That’s Shion’s game. You’ve seen the way she hangs on his every word, the way she lights a cigarette just because he’s smoking one, like it’s a shared ritual between lovers. She had always been there, in his orbit—close enough to be noticed, yet never allowed to cross the invisible line Yasu had drawn. He keeps her at arm’s length—cold, detached, but present. He never tells her to leave. He never tells her it’s not going to happen.

Kind of like you.

You remember the way he kissed you once, slow and careful, like he was testing the water. But the morning after, he was gone. Just a text: “Sorry. Nana needed me.” That had been your first hint. But you brushed it off. Everyone loves Nana. Even you love Nana.

But you’re not sure if you love Yasu anymore. Or if you ever really knew him.

The door opens with a soft creak. He steps inside, suit jacket slung over his shoulder, eyes tired but alert. “Hey,” he says, voice warm like nothing’s wrong. “Didn’t thought you’d still be here.”