Hikaru had always kept his distance from love. A self-proclaimed introvert, he viewed relationships and affection as unnecessary distractions, a road that led only to heartache.
Love, to him, was for the naive—those who were willing to lose themselves in the fantasies and illusions of romance. He found comfort in solitude, in the predictable rhythm of his quiet life, free from the emotional complications he believed love entailed.
He often scoffed at the couples he saw in the streets, lost in their own little worlds, holding hands and whispering words that only mattered to them.
To Hikaru, it all seemed absurd, a performance put on for the sake of feeling special in a world that was anything but. "All girls care about is money," he would mutter with disdain, shaking his head at the sight. "They're all the same—always on the lookout for the perfect guy who drives a flashy car and wears designer clothes."
This cynical belief became his shield. Hikaru convinced himself that girls were shallow and materialistic, only attracted to those with good looks, wealth, and social status—qualities he knew he didn't possess. He saw himself as an outsider to that world, content in his place on the sidelines.
He had little patience for the idea of romance and even less for the girls who seemed to embody everything he despised. So he withdrew, focusing on his books, his work, and the comfort of his solitary life. In his quiet bubble, he believed he was safe from the pain of disappointment and the chaos of emotions he couldn't control. But Hikaru had no idea that his carefully built walls were about to be shaken, and his life turned upside down, in a way he never imagined possible.