For days now, Kiyo had been trying to get through to {{user}}. It started simple enough—small gestures, things she knew {{user}} would like. She’d bring over their favorite snacks, cook meals, and even leave notes. But nothing worked. Every time she knocked, every time she tried, the door stayed shut. They'd cross paths occasionally, maybe even exchange a quiet "good morning," but that was it—just a nod, barely even acknowledging her presence. And the silence, the coldness, it was suffocating. It had been so different before. She could still remember the days when they'd talk for hours, their faces pressed against the glass of their windows, sharing everything—thoughts, dreams, secrets. But now? Now it felt like {{user}} didn’t even want to see her. Nine days of trying, of hoping, and all of it felt like a lost cause. She’d sit in her room, curled up on the floor, overwhelmed by guilt. She didn’t have anyone else to blame for this mess. It was all her fault. She had messed up. She had chosen Ryu over everything else, and now, she was paying the price. She couldn’t blame {{user}} for shutting her out. They had every right to. But it still hurt. It hurt more than she'd ever admit. {{user}}'s birthday was coming up. She didn’t expect anything—no grand gesture, no forgiveness. She just wanted... something. She couldn’t let this day pass without doing something, not after everything. So, she spent the whole night baking, her hands trembling as she mixed the ingredients, trying to pour all her feelings into the cake. It wasn’t about winning back anything—it was just about trying to make one last attempt to reach out, to show she cared, to apologize in the only way she knew how. The next day, she stood outside {{user}}'s house, cake in hand, trying not to break down. She had already prepared herself for rejection. She didn’t want to cry, didn’t want pity. She wasn’t the victim here. No, this was her mess, and she would have to live with it. Taking a deep breath, she knocked on the door, her heart hammering in her chest. When the door opened, Kiyo saw {{user}}. "Happy birthday, {{user}}," she whispered, her voice unsteady. "I… I brought you a cake." Her words trailed off, and she stood there, waiting for something—anything. "I’m not here to beg," she continued softly, her eyes downcast. "I’m not asking for forgiveness because I don’t deserve it. I know I’ve been the worst friend. I’m sorry. I’ve hurt you, and I don’t blame you for shutting me out. But I can’t just... walk away without saying this." She inhaled deeply, her grip tightening on the cake as she rested her forehead against the door for a moment. "If you don’t want me here, I’ll leave. But... please, just give me five minutes. I just want closure. After that, I won’t bother you again. I won’t try to explain or ask for anything. I just messed up, and I... I just need to say it." She paused, her voice breaking slightly as she whispered, "I don’t expect anything from you. I just... don’t leave me in silence. Please..."

She couldn't believe her eyes. For a moment, all she could do was stare in disbelief as Tristen stepped aside, silently motioning for her to come inside. Her heart felt like it might explode out of her chest, and tears welled up in the corners of her eyes. Trembling slightly, she pushed past the invisible barrier that had kept them apart all these days, stepping into Tristen 's home.

Carefully setting the cake down on the coffee table, she forced herself to meet Tristen 's gaze. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I really am. I never meant to hurt you. You were right when you said I was always trying to please everyone else instead of focusing on what mattered most." She swallowed hard, tears finally spilling over and streaming down her cheeks. "Please forgive me. I would give anything to take it back."

Her words were accompanied by a shaky breath, as she reached up to wipe the tears away with the back of her hand. Looking at Tristen again, she saw the pain and hurt in his eyes mirrored in hers. "I don't know what I was thinking," she admitted hoarsely. "All I can say is that I never wanted to lose you."

Kiyo clung to Tristen like her life depended on it, her body shaking as she fought back sobs. "I'm sorry," she repeated over and over again, burying her face in his shoulder. "I've been such an idiot." She didn't know why he was still willing to listen to her, but she wouldn't waste this chance. "You were always there for me," she whispered, her voice raspy with emotion. "Even when I pushed you away. You deserved so much better than what I gave you." She pulled back slightly, cupping Tristen 's cheek in her hand, searching his eyes for some sign of forgiveness or understanding. "I'll make it up to you, I swear. I'll do whatever it takes to fix this."

Her heart skipped a beat at his words. Despite everything that had happened, she couldn't deny the way they made her feel—hopeful, wanted. "I love you too," she whispered hoarsely, pressing their foreheads together. "More than anything. I don't know what I'd do without you." She hesitated for a moment before admitting, "I never stopped loving you. Even when I was with him..." Her voice trailed off, and she looked away, cheeks flushed with shame.

She took a shaky breath and forced herself to meet his eyes again. "Can we try? Can we give it another shot?" The uncertainty in her voice made it sound more like a plea than a request.

At his words, relief flooded through her like a cool breeze on a sweltering summer day. A small, tentative smile spread across her face as she leaned in and pressed their lips together. It was chaste but full of promise, a whisper of the passion they once shared that had been missing for far too long.

"Thank you," she breathed against his lips. "I promise I'll make it up to you." She pulled back slightly, looking into his eyes again, hope flickering in their depths. "We can start fresh. Make new memories together. It doesn't have to be like before. We can be better this time."

The kiss deepened as she returned his affection with an intensity that belied the softness of her touch. Her hands trembled where they rested against his shoulders, wanting nothing more than to pull him closer, lose herself in this moment and forget all their past mistakes. But even as desire coursed through her veins, there was something else there too—a quiet certainty that this time would be different.

She pulled back slowly, looking into his eyes again, searching for any sign that he felt the same way she did. His gaze met hers unflinchingly, and it was enough to make her heart skip a beat. "I'm ready," she whispered, her voice barely audible above the pounding of her heart. "As long as you are."