My Girlfriend Wanted an Open Relationship, So I Broke Up with Her and Found a Sweet Yandere - Chapter 39

The café across the street was quiet.

Not empty, but quiet enough that the sounds of spoons clinking against ceramic cups and the low hum of the espresso machine filled most of the space.

It was the kind of place people never came to when they didn’t want their conversations overheard.

Unfortunately for me, that also meant there was nowhere for my thoughts to escape.

Yuuri sat across from me.

Her back was straight, but it looked forced—like she was holding herself together through sheer effort. Her hands rested in her lap, fingers twisted tightly together.

She hadn’t looked up since we sat down.

A waitress approached and placed two glasses of water on the table.

“Please call me when you’re ready to order.”

She gave a polite smile before walking away.

The moment she disappeared behind the counter, the silence came back.

Heavy.

Uncomfortable.

I stared at the glass of water in front of me.

Condensation slowly rolled down its side.

Anything was easier to look at than her.

Just sitting across from Yuuri made my stomach turn.

Why won’t she leave me alone?

Two days ago I made it clear.

I don’t want to see her.

Ever again.

And yet here she was.

At my university.

In my space.

Dragging herself back into my life like none of that mattered.

“…Nii—”

“Don’t.”

My voice cut through the air immediately.

She flinched.

“Just… don’t.”

The word Nii-chan lodged somewhere deep in my chest like broken glass.

Yuuri lowered her head.

“I’m sorry…”

Of course she was.

She had been sorry two days ago too.

And before that.

Sorry.

Sorry.

Sorry.

The word had been repeated so many times that it had lost any meaning.

I rubbed my temple slowly.

“Cut to the chase.”

My voice came out flat.

“If you came all the way here, say what you want and get it over with.”

Yuuri swallowed.

Her fingers tightened.

“I… wanted to apologize again, Nii-chan—”

“I said cut to the chase.”

This time the words were colder.

Her shoulders stiffened.

For a moment it looked like she might cry.

But she forced it down.

“…Mom recovered.”

The words landed quietly on the table between us.

And for a brief moment—

Something inside me moved.

Mom.

The café faded away.

And I remembered her the way she used to be.

Standing in the kitchen while dinner cooked.

Humming songs she only half remembered.

Complaining that Yuuri took too long to get ready for school.

Scolding me for staying up late studying.

She had always been lively.

Warm.

The kind of person who made a house feel alive just by being there.

Her illness had been around for years.

At first it wasn’t obvious.

She got tired more often.

Needed days off work.

Then the hospital visits started.

Tests.

More tests.

Eventually the doctors explained it clearly.

Her kidneys were failing.

After that the hospital became a second home.

For the next two or three years she was constantly going in and out.

Some months were better.

Some months were worse.

And during the worst ones she barely had the strength to get out of bed.

The house slowly changed around that reality.

Medication schedules.

Doctor appointments.

Machines humming softly in the bedroom.

And through all of that—

He was there.

My father.

Not by blood.

But in every way that mattered.

Mom had married him when I was still a kid.

One of her colleagues.

Back then I barely understood what remarriage even meant.

To me he was just… Dad.

He was the one who helped with homework.

The one who took us out for ice cream when Mom had to work late.

The one who taught me how to ride a bicycle.

The one who stood in the rain for an hour at one of my middle school baseball games.

Even after Mom’s illness worsened, he never once complained.

He drove her to hospitals.

Handled insurance paperwork.

Cooked when she couldn’t.

Stayed up late making sure she took the right medication.

If anything, he tried harder than anyone else to keep the house from falling apart.

He was a good man.

He had always been a good man.

Until that night.

Until the moment Yuuri opened her mouth.

The café returned slowly.

The sound of cups.

Low conversation.

Yuuri was watching me carefully.

Like she noticed that moment of weakness.

I leaned back in my chair.

“…Did she send you?”

Yuuri shook her head quickly.

“No… Nii-chan.”

Her eyes dropped to the table.

That answer alone told me everything.

Of course Mom didn’t send her.

Mom didn’t even want to see me.

The memory flashed through my mind without warning.

My father’s hand grabbing my collar.

The first punch landing before I even understood what was happening.

The man who had once taught me how to ride a bike beating me like a stranger.

No—

Not like a stranger.

Like something worse.

Something disgusting.

Something that deserved it.

And Mom…

Mom sitting on the bed.

Watching.

The same eyes that used to look at me with warmth now filled with something else.

Something colder.

Something like disgust.

Yuuri’s voice pulled me back.

“I just thought… maybe…”

She struggled to find the words.

“…maybe if I came first…”

I said nothing.

She kept talking.

“I know I destroyed enough already,” she whispered.

“I know I don’t deserve forgiveness.”

Her fingers tightened again.

“But I thought… maybe if I reached out first… maybe Nii-chan would at least hear me out…”

Her voice cracked.

“It’s been really hard, Nii-chan.”

Hard.

The word echoed unpleasantly in my head.

She kept going.

“I think about it every day,” she said.

“The guilt doesn’t go away.”

Her voice trembled.

“I keep wondering if there was something I could have done differently… if I could take it back…”

My jaw slowly tightened.

All I heard was the same thing.

Her pain.

Her guilt.

Her suffering.

Something hot started rising in my chest.

You?

You were suffering?

My fingers tightened around the water glass.

What about me?

What about the moment my entire life collapsed?

What about the day the only family I had looked at me like I was something filthy?

Yuuri kept speaking, desperation creeping into every word.

“I just wanted to try fixing things,” she said.

“Even if Nii-chan hates me forever, I thought maybe I could at least try—”

“Stop.”

My voice was quiet.

But it sliced straight through her sentence.

She froze instantly.

The café felt smaller now.

Like the air had thickened.

I leaned forward slightly.

For the first time since we sat down, I looked directly into her eyes.

My chest was tight.

Not with sadness.

Not with nostalgia.

Just heat.

Boiling heat.

“Who was he?”

I asked, something I questioned only once before…