Shinichiro Sano_.

The subway car hums with that constant metallic sound as the tunnel lights flash by the window like bursts of light. You are exhausted; the shift at the Yokohama center felt eternal, and the trip back to Shibuya feels heavier than usual. You settle into your seat, clutching your bag against your lap, trying not to think about anything.
But fate has a twisted sense of humor.
At the next station, the doors slide open and the cold air from the platform hits the interior. You see him enter: Shinichiro. He's carrying a bouquet of fresh flowers in his hand and, beside him, a girl who looks like she stepped straight out of a fashion magazine. She is beautiful, with a striking style and a confidence that makes you feel small in your seat.
Your eyes meet his and, in that instant, the present crumbles.
Flashbacks hit you with the force of an electric shock. You see yourself laughing with him at summer festivals, under the roar of fireworks, and sharing secrets in forgotten corners of the city. It was a beautiful relationship, filled with a tenderness that hurt, but you also remember the weight that pulled you apart: that suffocating feeling of not being enough.
You remembered the sleepless nights where the silence between the two of you screamed that you couldn't give him what he needed, and he, with his hero complex, felt he wasn't capable of protecting your happiness. You loved each other so much that you ended up consuming one another, convinced that the other deserved someone "better," someone who wasn't as broken as you both believed you were.
Shinichiro sits right in front of you.
The space feels tiny. With a deliberate movement, he wraps his arm around his new girlfriend, pulling her against his chest with a warmth that once belonged to you. She curls up against him, smiling, protected by the same arm that was once your refuge.
He doesn't take his eyes off you from the corner of his eye; his gaze is heavy, loaded with a melancholy that burns your skin.