I never thought this would happen to me.

  Not because I believed I was unlovable or anything, but because I knew how the world worked.

  Girls didn't just walk up to guys like me and confess. It was always the other way around.

  Yet here she was.

  Standing right in front of me, shifting her weight from one foot to another, lips slightly trembling.

  "Souta… I like you."

  The hallway was quiet. Just me and her. A normal guy and a nervous girl.

  I swallowed.

  I should be happy, right? This is what most people dream of. Someone liking them. Someone choosing them.

  Yet something about it felt... off.

  The words were perfect. But the way she said them? It was like she was convincing herself more than she was confessing to me.

  My heart pounded.

  And just as I was about to say something—

  "Ask her why."

  The voice.

  It came in sharp, cutting through my thoughts like a blade.

  "What?" I asked internally.

  "Ask. Her. Why."

  Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author's preferred platform and support their work!

  I frowned. That felt… wrong.

  Shouldn’t I just be grateful? Shouldn’t I just accept? Why ruin this moment?

  But the voice didn’t let up.

  *"If love has no reason, then it’s not love. It’s a fleeting feeling."

  I inhaled. Steadied myself.

  And then I did it.

  "Why?"

  She blinked. "Huh?"

  "Why do you like me?"

  She looked caught off guard. Her eyes darted around, as if searching for the right answer.

  I could almost hear the gears turning in her head.

  "I mean… you're different. Smart. Kinda mysterious."

  I didn’t react. I just waited.

  "And… I don’t know. You just have this cool vibe. I feel like you understand things other guys don’t."

  The voice laughed.

  Not a kind laugh. Not a warm laugh.

  A cold, knowing chuckle.

  "She doesn’t love you, Souta.

  She loves the idea of you."

  A weight settled in my chest.

  I clenched my fists.

  I wasn’t a person to her.

  I was a concept. A mood. An aesthetic.

  Not someone she loved.

  Someone she wanted to be fascinated by.

  I sighed, looking at her again, really looking at her.

  Her hands were still fidgeting. She was still waiting for my answer.

  She thought she liked me.

  But what she really liked—was her perception of me.

  And that?

  That wasn't love.

  I exhaled. "Sorry… but no."

  Her eyes widened. "Wait, what? Why?"

  I almost laughed at how fast the excitement vanished from her face.

  "Because you don’t even know who I am."

  Her lips parted slightly, as if she wanted to argue—but she had nothing to say. Because she knew I was right.

  Silence.

  That’s when I felt it.

  The shift.

  Her crush shattered in real-time.

  Not because I rejected her.

  But because she finally realized she had nothing real to hold on to.

  I stepped back.

  The air felt lighter now.

  As I turned to leave, the voice whispered something in my mind.

  A riddle.

  "Is it love,

  or just curiosity wearing a prettier mask?"

  I didn’t look back.

  I didn’t need to.