My Girlfriend Wanted an Open Relationship, So I Broke Up with Her and Found a Sweet Yandere - Chapter 41

The chair scraped faintly as I stood, but I didn’t look back.

“Nii—”

Her voice reached me just as my hand pushed the café door open. I didn’t stop. The bell above the door chimed once, light and out of place, before it shut behind me.

Cold air met me immediately.

Snow.

I hadn’t noticed it earlier, but now it was everywhere—soft flakes drifting down under the streetlights, settling over the pavement, the cars, the quiet edges of the road outside the café. It was the kind of snow that didn’t rush. It just… stayed.

I stepped forward without thinking.

The warmth of the café faded quickly behind me, replaced by the steady hum of evening traffic along the Shinjuku side street. People passed by with their coats pulled tight, heads slightly lowered, their breaths faintly visible in the air. No one paid attention to me. That helped.

I walked.

At first, my steps were too fast, uneven, like I needed distance more than direction. The snow crunched faintly beneath my shoes, the sound grounding in a way nothing else was. My fingers were still cold from the glass, and I rubbed them together absentmindedly as I moved past a row of dim storefronts.

I didn’t really know where I was going.

Just… away.

Yuuri’s face tried to follow me out of that café.

I didn’t let it.

I turned at the corner near the small convenience store—the one with the flickering sign I’d passed earlier—and kept moving toward the broader road that led closer to the station. Cars rolled by slowly, headlights cutting through the falling snow, everything quieter than usual.

It felt strange.

Nothing had changed, but something had.

I slowed down after a while.

My breathing steadied. The tightness in my chest didn’t go away, but it stopped building. It just… stayed there. Heavy. Familiar.

I exhaled, watching the faint cloud of breath disappear into the cold.

I had asked her one question.

That was all.

Not something complicated. Not something unfair.

Just one thing I had needed to know.

And she hadn’t answered it.

Not then. Not later. Not until it didn’t matter anymore.

My steps came to a stop under a streetlight.

Snow gathered quietly on my shoulders. I didn’t brush it off.

For a moment, I just stood there, staring at the ground, at the thin layer of white slowly covering the pavement.

“…Die.”

The word slipped out before I could stop it.

It wasn’t anger this time. It didn’t feel sharp. Just… tired.

I let out a small breath and ran a hand through my hair, pushing it back.

I had spent years thinking there was something I was missing. Some piece of the situation that would make everything make sense if I just understood it properly. If I waited long enough. If I was patient enough.

If I trusted them.

I shook my head lightly.

That was on me.

I started walking again.

The road opened up as I moved toward Shinjuku Station, the flow of people getting a little thicker now. Salarymen, students, couples walking close together to share warmth. Life continuing, steady and unaffected.

It wasn’t unfair.

It just… didn’t care.

I adjusted the strap of my bag on my shoulder and crossed the street as the signal changed, slipping into the current of people heading toward the station entrance.

Warm air hit me as soon as I stepped inside.

The shift was immediate—the quiet cold outside replaced by the constant movement, the noise of announcements, footsteps, distant train doors sliding open and shut. I moved through it automatically, tapping my card at the gate, barely registering the people around me.

The display flickered overhead. I stood near one of the pillars, hands in my pockets, watching the tracks.

My reflection faintly showed in the glass barrier.

I looked… normal.

That was the strange part.

Nothing about me looked like anything had happened. No one here would know what I had just walked away from. No one would care, either.

I leaned back slightly against the pillar and closed my eyes for a second.

Yuuri’s voice didn’t come back this time.

Neither did the café.

Just the quiet weight sitting somewhere in my chest.

It wasn’t as loud as before.

But it wasn’t gone.

The train arrived with a rush of wind.

I stepped inside with the others, finding a seat near the window. The carriage wasn’t crowded—just a few people scattered around, wrapped in their own worlds. Someone dozing. Someone scrolling through their phone. Someone staring blankly ahead.

I sat down and rested my head lightly against the cold glass.

Outside, the snow blurred everything slightly as the train began to move.

Tokyo looked softer like this.

Less sharp. Less defined.

I watched the lights pass by in silence.

My mind drifted, but it didn’t spiral like before. The thoughts came, but they didn’t pile on top of each other. They just… passed.

The hospital.

That night.

The question.

Yuuri standing there.

Haruka.

I didn’t push them away.

I just didn’t hold onto them either.

At some point, I realized my hands had relaxed.

I hadn’t noticed when that happened.

The train slowed.

Suginami.

I stood up, stepping off with the others as the doors opened. The air here felt colder than before, the snow slightly thicker now, settling over the quiet residential streets.

The noise of the city faded quickly as I moved away from the station.

Familiar roads.

The small bakery on the corner, already closed. The vending machines glowing faintly near the apartment complex entrance. The narrow path leading toward my building, lightly covered in untouched snow.

I walked it without thinking.

Each step leaving a clear mark behind me.

I paused briefly near the entrance, glancing back at the path.

A line of footprints.

Simple.

Obvious.

There was no meaning to it.

Still, I looked at it for a second longer than necessary before turning away.

My hand rested on the door handle.

I didn’t open it immediately.

The cold lingered around me, quiet and still. Snow continued to fall, steady as before, covering everything without asking.

I exhaled slowly.

It hurt.

That hadn’t changed.

But it wasn’t the kind of pain that made me feel stuck anymore.

Just something I had to carry for a while.

I tightened my grip on the handle and pushed the door open.

… I wasn’t going to stand outside forever.

The door gave way under my hand.

I stepped inside.

Cold.

Not the kind from outside—something that had settled in.

I paused.

…drip.

Faint.

I slipped off my shoes and walked in. The room looked the same—table, couch, everything in place.

…drip.

My eyes lifted.

Near the ceiling, above the wall by the bathroom, a dark patch spread unevenly. At its center, a drop formed—

—and fell.

…drip.

I stared at it.

“…Seriously.”

Flat.

I stepped closer. A small patch had already spread on the floor. Another drop gathered.

…drip.

Steady.

I looked along the ceiling. It traced the line above the bathroom wall.

I exhaled.

Didn’t check anything.

Didn’t matter.

I sat on the couch.

Cold fabric. Elbows on knees. Hands loose.

…drip.

It filled the room.

Not loud.

Just there.

I listened.

“Fuck my life.”