No matter where she was in the world, Allie Kelley never changed. She was magnetic — a sunbeam wrapped in human form. People gravitated toward her without knowing why. Her laughter was contagious, her warmth disarming. She had the rare ability to make anyone feel seen.
She'd always believed that kindness and generosity should go hand in hand — but never be mistaken for weakness. And even in a new country, far from home, she was still that girl: resilient, grounded, and a little unpredictable. Hirano Kazuki knew that better than anyone.
The more time he spent with her, the more he realized he was in trouble — real, heart-thudding, sleepless-night trouble.
At first, it was harmless. They were neighbors, friends who shared late-night snacks and rooftop talks. Sometimes she'd sit on the floor of his studio, barefoot and half-asleep, listening to his latest mix. Other times, they'd eat instant ramen from paper cups while laughing about random things — her failed Japanese phrases, his obsession with American sitcoms.
Somewhere along the way, friendship had stopped being enough.
He'd grown addicted to the way she'd look up from her food mid-laugh, eyes bright, mouth curved, unguarded. To the way she'd hum softly when she thought no one was listening. To the quiet loneliness behind her smile.
But she was hard to read. Not cold — just distant, as if part of her heart was locked away in a place he couldn't reach.
Still, Kazuki wasn't the type to hide behind hesitation. If he was going to crash, he'd rather do it headfirst. The night was cool and crisp, autumn air brushing their cheeks as they walked home side by side. Tokyo's skyline glittered like a thousand stars, and the sound of a street musician's guitar drifted softly from the next block.
They had just finished dinner at a small izakaya. Allie was teasing him about his habit of over-seasoning his food when Kazuki stopped walking.
"Allie," he said suddenly.
She turned, smiling. "Yeah?"
He took a deep breath. His pulse pounded in his ears, but his voice was steady.
"I like you," he said. "I like you a lot."
The words hung in the air between them, raw and unguarded.
Allie froze, caught completely off guard. Her eyes widened — for a moment, she thought she'd misheard him.
Then she laughed lightly, trying to defuse the tension."Like a friend? I know, Kazuki. You don't have to be formal about it. I like you too — as a friend and as a very confusing human being."
He didn't smile back."I mean more than that," he said quietly. "I'm attracted to you — to everything about you. You make me want to try harder. I'm not asking for an answer now, but I need you to know how I feel."
Allie's breath caught. Her chest tightened.
For a moment, she almost wished she could love him. He was kind, honest, alive. Everything a person should want.
But her heart had other plans.
She looked at him softly, her voice trembling yet certain."Kazuki… I'm really sorry. I can't. I can't love anyone right now — not like that."
She bowed slightly, the gesture sincere. "You're amazing, but I'm still learning how to love myself again."
And in that second, as she said it, a face flashed in her mind — Curtis Harper. The ache of his memory hit her like a wave. The way he looked at her that night. The regret in his voice. The warmth that once tethered them together.
It was still there.No matter how far she ran, he lingered. Kazuki noticed the tears welling in her eyes before she did."Allie," he said gently, stepping closer. "Hey, it's okay."
She blinked rapidly, forcing a shaky smile. "No, no, I'm fine. Just… emotional. It's been a long time since anyone said something that genuine to me."
She looked at him, eyes glimmering under the streetlight."Thank you, Kazuki. Really. I'm grateful for how you see me. But please — don't let this change our friendship. I treasure it too much."
Kazuki's shoulders relaxed. For a second, disappointment flickered across his face — then he grinned, ruffling her hair playfully.
"Of course, I'll stay your friend. I'm not giving that up just because you rejected my handsome face," he teased."Besides, who knows? Maybe I'll change your mind someday."
Allie laughed through her tears. "Dream on, Hirano."
They walked the rest of the way home in silence — not awkward, just quiet. Tokyo glowed around them, the city alive and indifferent to their tiny heartbreak.
Meanwhile, halfway across the world…
Curtis Harper adjusted the cuffs of his tailored navy suit, standing beside Nadine in a ballroom dripping with gold chandeliers and polished marble floors.The hum of champagne glasses and laughter surrounded them — another corporate gala, another night of networking.
Nadine sparkled under the lights, charming everyone she met. She thrived in rooms like this, effortlessly gliding from one conversation to the next, the center of attention wherever she went.
Curtis admired her poise. She was everything a man could ask for — beautiful, smart, ambitious.
And yet, standing beside her, he felt like a mannequin in an expensive store window.
He smiled when expected, nodded at the right moments, but inside, he felt hollow. Nadine was perfect — but in a way that felt practiced. Her kindness felt rehearsed. Her laughter, too polished.
He'd once liked her honesty at work, her quiet confidence. But the woman beside him now wasn't the same one.
Somewhere along the way, she'd turned their relationship into a performance — and he was the prop.
He hated himself for it. For comparing her to someone who wasn't even there. Every time Nadine laughed, he thought of Allie's unfiltered cackle. Every time she brushed his sleeve, he remembered Allie's clumsy, accidental touches.Every time Nadine kissed him, he felt the absence of what he once had — that fleeting warmth he'd only ever known with her.
He tried to move on. He tried to love Nadine the way she deserved. But his heart refused to comply.
When Nadine returned to their table, her phone buzzing with new contacts, she leaned in, proud."Big night," she said. "Three new investors. If this works out, our firm could land the quarter's biggest account."
Curtis smiled faintly, his gaze unfocused. "That's great, Nadine. Really."
But deep down, something in him finally gave way.The drive to her apartment was quiet. The city lights flickered through the car windows — red, gold, white. Nadine hummed along to the radio, unaware of the storm building beside her.
When he stopped in front of her building, she turned with a gentle smile. "Do you want to come up?"
Curtis looked at her — really looked. She deserved better than his silence, better than being someone's placeholder.
"Nadine," he began softly, "you're incredible. You've been patient, understanding, and I'm grateful. But I can't keep pretending."
Her smile faltered. "Pretending?"
"I tried to make this work," he continued, voice low but steady. "But I'm not being fair — to you, or to myself. The truth is, the kind of love you deserve… I can't give it. Not right now. Maybe not ever."
She sat there, stunned. Then, quietly, she nodded."I knew," she whispered. "I just didn't want to believe it." Curtis exhaled, the weight of months lifting from his chest.
Nadine leaned forward, kissed him gently — one last time. "Take care of yourself, Curtis."
She stepped out of the car, heels clicking against the pavement, and disappeared through the glass doors.
For a moment, he sat there, watching her vanish into the building — the city lights blurring through his windshield.
He gripped the steering wheel and whispered,"Allie… where are you?"