Kaede groaned as sunlight seeped through her curtains, hitting her face with an almost mocking brightness. She squinted, pulling the bnket over her head, trying to retreat back into the fog of restless dreams. Sleep had been elusive, haunted by fragmented memories and an unshakable ache. Her phone buzzed on the bedside table, the arm jolting her upright.

  With a resigned sigh, she reached for the phone, silencing the piercing sound. Then her breath caught when she noticed the text she'd set for this particur arm.

  "2nd Anniversary – Don’t forget."

  Kaede stared at the words as if they'd burned into her retinas. A bitter ugh escaped her lips. “What a way to start the day,” she muttered, her voice dripping with sarcasm. She flopped back onto her bed, clutching the phone to her chest, as a flood of memories came rushing in.

  Two years. It should’ve been two years today. The day wasn’t supposed to start with bitterness or regret. It should’ve been marked by ughter, stolen kisses, and quiet moments shared with the person she loved most in the world.

  Mirei.

  Kaede let out a muffled groan, pressing her hands against her face as the memories cwed at her heart. "I should erase this stupid arm," she murmured, though her fingers hesitated to do so. Instead, she stared at the screen, her vision blurring with tears she stubbornly refused to let fall.

  She bit her lip, her thoughts spiraling. Almost two years... A sense of awe mingled with the bitterness. What they had was something out of a dream, an impossibility made real. How many people could say they went from being one of a million screaming fans to Mirei’s girlfriend?

  "That was me," she said aloud, her voice trembling. “I was her girlfriend. I got to hold her, ugh with her... love her... kiss her.”

  The Kaede from before wouldn’t have believed it. That version of herself—awkward, starstruck, and hopelessly in love from afar—would’ve called it delusional. "Who do you think you are?" that past self would’ve sneered. "You’re just a delusional fan. Get real."

  Kaede chuckled bitterly. "Well, past me, joke's on you. I got to live it. And now..."

  Her words trailed off as the silence of her room pressed in. She hugged her knees to her chest, her voice barely above a whisper. “And now I’m her ex. Mirei’s ex. The ex-girlfriend of a superstar idol. What a title, huh?”

  But the ache in her chest only deepened.

  “It’s not enough.” Her voice cracked as the words spilled out, raw and unfiltered. “I thought it would be enough to have been with her, even for a little while. But it’s not. I want more. I want her back. I want forever.”

  Her hands clenched into fists, her body trembling under the weight of her emotions.

  She screamed into her pillow, her frustration boiling over. "Damn it, Kaede! You're so selfish. You knew this was coming. You knew this wasn’t forever. So why can’t you just let go?"

  The sudden ring of her phone broke through her spiraling thoughts, startling her. She gnced at the caller ID and groaned again. It was Yukina.

  "Kaede, what are you doing? I could hear you from my room," Yukina’s voice teased through the receiver.

  Kaede tried to sound casual, but her voice betrayed her. "Was I that loud? You’re overreacting, Yukina."

  "Am I?" Yukina’s ughter on the other end made Kaede cringe. "I could practically hear your dramatic monologue. Something about being a delusional fan and Mirei’s ex?"

  Kaede’s face burned with embarrassment. Did I really say all that out loud?

  "Yukinaaaa," she groaned, burying her face in her hands. "Stop. Please. This is already humiliating enough."

  But Yukina wasn’t letting her off the hook. "I was an ex—"

  "YUKINA!" Kaede practically screamed, cutting her off.

  Yukina’s ughter rang out again, this time softer, more understanding. "Rex, Kaede. I’m just messing with you. But seriously, you’re lucky I’m your neighbor now. Who knows what kind of nonsense you’d get into without me around."

  Kaede sighed, the fight draining out of her. "Yeah, yeah. Thanks, Yukina. Just... don’t tell anyone about this, okay?"

  "Your secret’s safe with me," Yukina said, her tone light but sincere. "Now get up. We’ve got a busy day ahead."

  When the call ended, Kaede y back against her pillow, staring at the ceiling. The momentary distraction had passed, and the weight of the day settled back over her like a heavy bnket.

  She thought of Mirei again—her smile, her ugh, the way she’d light up a room without even trying. She’d been Kaede’s everything, and now she was a ghost haunting her memories.

  Kaede’s heart clenched as another thought crept in, one she’d been avoiding for all these time. That fsh news report...

  The memory hit her like a punch to the gut: the fsh of headlines, the devastating announcement. Mirei had been gone. Taken by her own hand, or so it had seemed.

  Despite all the time she had spent with Mirei, even sharing the profound bond of being her girlfriend, Kaede remained haunted by the mystery of what had driven Mirei to the brink of despair, clinging to a fragile hope that this time, history would not repeat itself.

  Kaede shook her head, trying to banish the image. "She’s okay now," she whispered to herself. "She’s okay, and history won’t repeat itself. It won’t."

  But the doubt lingered. She couldn’t protect Mirei anymore. She couldn’t stand by her side, shield her from the pressures of the world. The thought terrified her, sending a shiver down her spine.

  Kaede sat up, her fists clenched. "But it’s different this time," she told herself firmly. "So much is different."

  She wasn’t the same naive fan she’d been before. She wasn’t powerless anymore. Kaede had carved out her own path, built her own future. She wasn’t standing in Mirei’s shadow—she was creating a light of her own.

  Even if it hurt, even if the distance between them felt unbearable, she had to trust that Mirei would be okay.

  Kaede took a deep breath, her resolve hardening. "Focus on the present, Kaede," she said aloud. "Focus on what you can control."

  And yet, as she prepared to face the day, she couldn’t help but gnce at her phone one st time. Her finger hovered over the anniversary arm, but she didn’t delete it.

  Not yet.

  Because some memories, no matter how painful, were worth holding onto.