I never felt particularly close to that friend, but oddly, she often clung to me and acted like we were inseparable.
I don’t enjoy overly clingy friendships, and while I found it annoying that she copied my hairstyle and belongings, I didn’t outright dislike her.
She was the type of girl who was sweet, adorable, and a bit of a handful.
Now, she’s noticed me watching her kiss my childhood friend from afar. Instead of panicking, her gaze flickers with smug superiority as she looks back at me.
But she quickly closes her eyes again, focusing on the intense, passionate kiss.
It’s the kind of kiss that feels un-Japanese in its intensity.
I’ve never shared such a kiss with him—not that I’d want to. As a typical Japanese person, it feels a bit too much.
"Hey."
A voice calls out to me as I watch their kiss with indifferent eyes.
"You okay with this?"
I turn to see him, startled.
"That girl… isn’t she someone who’s always around you?"
"Shiba-kun…"
It’s unusual for him to talk to me.
He’s one of the famous pair—the kendo captain, student council president, and the epitome of perfection, Shiba-kun.
Stoic, serious, and disciplined, he’s unexpectedly caring and has strong support from both girls and boys.
But he makes no effort to hide his dislike for me.
Since I’m childhood friends with his best friend, we naturally ended up in the same group sometimes—studying, walking home together, or cooking meals for my childhood friend, who lives alone with his uncle and has an irregular diet.
There was even a time when Shiba-kun came over while I was cooking, and he ate my food with such enthusiasm, showering it with compliments, that it embarrassed me.
But over time, his attitude toward me grew cold.
At first, he’d avoid eye contact. Then, he’d subtly distance himself whenever I was near. Eventually, he started ignoring me entirely, even frowning when I tried to talk to him.
I fell into self-loathing, certain that I must have done something wrong, though I couldn’t figure out what.
What could I have done to make him hate me?
"Hey, are you listening?"
As I mulled over the reasons for his change, he frowned impatiently, gripping my shoulders.
"Oh, sorry. I spaced out."
"If it hurts you that much, why don’t you break up with him? Clinging to him will only make you miserable."
His words, cold and sharp, felt like a deliberate jab.
Was he trying to provoke me? Was he so desperate to separate me from my childhood friend?
The thought made my vision blur, tears welling up against my will.
No, I can’t cry. Not here, not now.
I don’t want to be the kind of woman he’d find annoying.
"Hey, don’t cry! Damn it!"
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