Chapter 1: Eightieth May 23, 2019

I opened my eyes.

The glow of my computer screen was still in front of me, the cursor blinking patiently at the top of a blank document. I was upstairs in the second floor of my duplex apartment, sitting in my desk chair the way I always seemed to end up—half-slumped, half-awake, as if sleep and consciousness were both pulling at me with equal strength.

On the floor beside me, my dog Roku was curled into a warm ball of fur, breathing softly in his usual spot.

21:06 p.m.

In exactly five seconds, he would react to the elevator.

I knew this perfectly. Too perfectly.

I sighed, leaning back in my chair as I stretched my arms above my head. My bones cracked in quiet protest. Repeating this whole situation again drained me in a way I couldn’t even begin to describe. But it was what it was. What it always was.

Ding.

Elevator sound.

Roku’s eyes snapped open immediately. His ears twitched up, and in one smooth motion he stood, turned toward the stairs, and shot me a look—open the door.

His “mother,” my wife Reira, had just gotten home.

I stood, opened the upstairs door, and Roku darted down the staircase of the duplex, nails tapping against the wooden steps as he rushed to the lower level. He stopped right in front of the elevator that opened directly into the living room.

A second later, the metallic doors slid open.

“Helloooo!” Reira sang cheerfully as she leaned down to greet Roku, her voice bright enough to warm the whole apartment. Roku practically exploded toward her, tail wagging frantically as he covered her hands and cheeks with licks.

Even though it wasn’t cold outside anymore, Reira was always freezing. She was wrapped in a beige faux-fur coat layered over her brown jacket, tight jeans tucked into stylish brown heeled boots, and carrying her large leather bag that matched everything else. She had that natural talent for looking elegant even after a long day.

A gorgeous woman of twenty-six—short, curvy, and beautiful in all the places where beauty liked to settle.

She turned to me with a smile.

“Hi, darling,” she said, stepping forward to give me a light kiss on the lips.

“Hi, darling,” I echoed, my voice flat. “Happy birthday,” I added, nearly monotone, giving her a brief hug and another mechanical kiss.

I’d already wished her a happy birthday that morning before we both headed out. But she thought we hadn’t seen each other all day.

For her, that was true.

For me… not so much.

“Do you have everything ready for tomorrow?” she asked as she moved past me, dropping her purse and sliding out of her coat with practiced ease.

Of course I had everything ready.

Of course I knew exactly how tomorrow would go.

And of course I hated every second leading up to what was about to happen.

Though technically… it had all already happened, long ago.

“Yes, darling,” I said.

We were supposed to leave early in the morning—drop Roku off with some relatives, then take the car for a weekend trip to celebrate her birthday.

“Is something wrong?” Reira asked.

I blinked. That question wasn’t supposed to show up until about fifty minutes from now.

My growing apathy toward the repetition must have accelerated things.

But what did it matter?

It would all end the same way anyway.

“Reira,” I said. “I could tell you a thousand things. I could start by pointing out you’ve been coming home past midnight every night this week. Or that you skipped Wednesday’s meeting and didn’t bother to tell me. Or I could bring up many things I know that you don’t know I know.”

My tone stayed calm—serious, firm, but not angry.

“But you’d deny all of it. You always have. You always will. So let’s do each other a favor and get this over with quickly. Go on. Say it.”

Her eyes widened. “What’s with you? That’s exactly the kind of behavior that makes me want—”

“Say it,” I repeated, gently taking her by the arm.

She inhaled sharply, hesitating for only a second.

“I know we’ve only been married for a year and a half, but I… I want to end it.”

“Okay,” I said simply.

I stepped back. “I’m going upstairs. If you want, I can sleep on the couch tonight. I don’t mind. We’ll figure things out tomorrow.”

“That’s it?” Reira raised her voice. “Really? That’s all you have to say? Your wife tells you she wants to end the marriage and you don’t care?”

“I do care, Reira… or rather, I did the first time.”

I looked at her with a tired kind of clarity.

“But now? Now it’s like trying to cut air with a knife. It doesn’t affect me anymore.”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Reira snapped. “You’re acting weird. I know this is hard—what I’m saying is terrible—but at least try to understand me.”

“Reira, I do understand.”

I turned fully toward her and met her gaze. Her eyes were glossy with tears, her hands trembling. I felt nothing shift inside me—no panic, no anger, no sorrow. Just the quiet weight of knowing exactly how this scene would unfold.

“No… you don’t understand…” she whispered. “You’re just angry, that’s why you’re reacting like this. It’s not what you think it is, I swear—”

“Reira.” I cut her off gently. “It is what I think. Exactly what I thought the first time. And you denied it. And if I bring it up now, we’ll just fight again, because you’ll deny it again. I don’t want that. You used to be honest… kind… but lately you’ve been dishonest. Self-centered. And I don’t like the person you’ve become.”

Her frustration rose like heat.

“Why are you talking like that? Like this already happened before? Like you’ve already lived this, Naoki?”

“Because that’s exactly what’s happening,” I said. “And everything ends the same way.”

I stepped toward her.

She didn’t move back.

In her eyes I could see confusion, fear, longing, regret—all tangled tightly together. The same look she had worn the first time… and every time after.

I took her wrists, gently but firmly, drawing her closer.

Her breath caught.

“Naoki…” she whispered.

For her—this version of her—everything was happening for the first time.

For me, it was the last repetition of a moment that had looped more times than I cared to count.

I leaned in.

Our foreheads touched.

Her trembling eased for just a second as she closed her eyes.

Then we kissed—deeply, desperately, as if trying to hold together the pieces of something already broken. It was the kind of kiss that carried the echo of what we used to be… and the ache of what we would never be again.

Her hands found my shoulders; mine slid to her waist.

Closeness replaced words, and silence replaced accusations.

We clung to each other—not out of hope, but out of the quiet, painful understanding that this was an ending neither of us knew how to face properly.

And so, we let the night fold around us.

We let memory guide us through familiar motions—soft, tense, bittersweet.

A final moment shared by two people who had already drifted too far apart.

I opened my eyes again.

I didn’t need to check the clock.

I knew perfectly well what time it was.

6:30 a.m.

The sound of running water came from the bathroom—Reira was showering. I was lying naked under a sheet, Roku curled up at my feet in his usual tight little ball of warmth.

The shower stopped.

A moment later, I heard the soft click of the glass door and Reira’s careful footsteps as she stepped out. I exhaled, pushed the sheet aside, and made my way to the bathroom.

“Good morning,” Reira said as she dried her hair with a towel. Her voice was quiet. She didn’t look at me—her eyes stayed fixed somewhere near the floor. She seemed small, ashamed, unsure.

Her pale skin still carried droplets of water, her movements gentle, almost fragile.

“Good morning,” I replied with the same apathetic tone as I stepped past her and into the shower.

“About yesterday…” she said quickly, reaching out to hold my arm as if trying to keep the moment from slipping away. The towel in her hair slipped and fell to the floor.

“Yes?” I asked.

“Maybe… maybe we could think things through a little better. Let’s still go on the trip like we planned. We can talk during the drive, or when we get there. What do you think?”

“No,” I answered immediately.

She blinked, stunned. “No? Just like that?”

I stepped into the shower.

“You’re so proud? Seriously?” she shouted. “Is that it?”

I didn’t respond.

I turned on the water instead.

“Idiot,” she muttered as she stormed out of the bathroom.

I didn’t need to hurry.

I didn’t need to wonder.

I knew exactly what would happen next.

By the time I stepped out of the shower, Reira would already be gone. She’d leave her things scattered around the living room—she’d come back for them sometime next week. But from this moment on, she would never again be my partner.

At least… not this version of Reira.