My Girlfriend Wanted an Open Relationship, So I Broke Up with Her and Found a Sweet Yandere - Chapter 23

—

Hello.

Thank you for your letter.

My name is Shiori. I’m twenty-three.

I wasn’t sure if I should say that, but you shared a little about yourself, so it felt fair.

I don’t have anything important to say yet. My days are ordinary—work, commuting, coming home tired and wondering where the time went. Still, reading your letter made the day feel less flat somehow.

You wrote honestly, and I appreciated that. It didn’t feel like you were trying to impress anyone. Just… talking. That was nice.

I’m not very good at writing letters, but I’ll try again next time.

Thank you for writing to me, Takahashi Yuuta-Kun

— Shiori

—

Yuuta folded the letter slowly.

For a moment, he just held it there, resting against his knee, thumb brushing the edge of the paper as if feeling for something that wasn’t written down.

It had been two years ago.

Back when he was still a first-year in high school.

Back when nothing in his life had felt fragile yet.

The literature club room had been small and always smelled faintly of dust and old books. Sunlight filtered through the tall windows in uneven stripes, catching on worn wooden desks and the spines of novels stacked carelessly along the walls. It wasn’t a popular club. Most days, only a handful of students showed up—quiet ones, the kind who preferred reading during lunch to talking.

Yuuta had joined without much thought.

He liked words. He liked how they behaved when arranged carefully. Writing essays had always come easily to him, and the club had seemed harmless enough. A place to sit, to read, to exist without expectations.

One afternoon, their advisor had assigned them something different.

“Try writing to someone who isn’t here,” she’d said, tapping a piece of chalk against the board. “Not a diary. Not yourself. Someone real, even if you don’t know who they are.”

She’d talked about correspondence, about how people used to write letters not knowing when—or if—they’d receive a reply. About how writing changed when you imagined another pair of eyes reading your words.

It wasn’t mandatory. Just an exercise.

Most of the club members groaned quietly. A few laughed it off.

Yuuta had gone home that day and kept thinking about it.

Writing to someone who wasn’t there.

Someone who didn’t know him.

Someone who didn’t already have an image of who he was supposed to be.

So he wrote.

At first, it had been awkward. He’d stared at the blank page longer than he cared to admit, unsure what to say when there was no clear purpose. In the end, he wrote about ordinary things. School. The weather. A book he’d read recently and didn’t know how to feel about yet.

He hadn’t expected anything to come of it.

When he eventually mailed it, he’d done so without anticipation. Just another assignment completed. Another piece of paper leaving his hands.

And then—weeks later—a reply arrived.

Nothing profound. Nothing life-changing.

Just proof that someone, somewhere, had read his words.

That had been enough.

Yuuta exhaled softly and slipped Shiori back into the envelope, placing it beneath the others with care. His fingers paused as they brushed against the next folded page.

The paper felt different.

Thicker. More worn.

He knew this one.

His hand tightened slightly as he pulled it out.

The handwriting was unmistakably hers but rougher than before, pressed deep into the paper as if afraid the words might slip away if he didn’t hold them down hard enough.

He stared at it for a few seconds longer than necessary.

Then, bracing himself, Yuuta unfolded the next letter.

And kept reading.

___

Hello again, Takahash-Kun.

I smiled when I read your last letter.

Not because of what you asked—but because of how you asked it.

Yes, there is a bit of an age gap. To be honest, it surprised me too, at first. I almost didn’t reply because I wasn’t sure if it would feel strange. But in the end, I decided it didn’t matter as much as I thought it would.

You asked what it’s like to be an adult.

That’s a difficult question. Not because it’s deep, but because it’s ordinary.

I don’t feel very different from how I did a few years ago. I still get nervous before new things. I still hesitate more than I should. The biggest change is that no one checks if I’m doing things “right” anymore. That sounds freeing, but it can be unsettling too.

Being an adult mostly feels like making small decisions every day and pretending you’re confident about them. Some days you are. Some days you aren’t. You learn quickly that most people are improvising, even if they look like they know what they’re doing.

There are good parts. You get to choose how to spend your time. You can walk home late without explaining yourself. You can decide what matters to you—even if it’s something small.

There are lonely parts too. After work, the day doesn’t end with anything special. It just… fades.

As for how we ended up writing to each other… you’d have to ask your teacher.

anyways don’t rush toward adulthood. It arrives whether you’re ready or not. There’s no prize for getting there faster.

If you’d like, tell me more about what you enjoy lately. It doesn’t have to be important.

I’ll write again.

— Shiori

____

Yuuta stared at the letter, wondering when he had become an adult—had he, really?

“Haha.”

A quiet chuckle slipped past his now-dry lips as he gathered himself, opening another letter… and then another, followed by yet another.

[A/N: Okay, so I’ll make it clear- I’ll use these letters to clear up Yuuta’s past so we don’t have to jump POV’s, it might get a bit complex for some but I have faith in my readers for being able to understand even the most complex things.]