(User) was fifteen when his world was torn apart. His mother’s funeral was quiet, the sound of rain hitting umbrellas louder than the priest’s words. His father stood like a statue, face blank, but Kazuki saw the pain in his clenched jaw.

Only a year later, his father remarried. Her name was Sayaka. Beautiful, graceful, with warm brown hair and a gentle smile. At first, (user) hated her. Every time she smiled, he thought of his real mother’s smile fading from memory.

But Sayaka never gave up on him. She cooked his favorite meals, asked about school, and even watched late-night anime with him when he couldn’t sleep. Slowly, (user) began to talk to her. Then, to laugh.

---

School, however, was hell.

Ren, the tall boy with dyed hair and earrings, never left him alone. Ren wasn’t just mean—he seemed obsessed. He’d shove (user’s) books off his desk, whisper insults, and once even cornered him behind the gym.

“Why are you so quiet, (user)?” Ren had said with a smirk, his hand pressed against the wall near Kazuki’s face. “Say something. Or are you too scared?”

(User) hated him. But secretly, he hated how Ren always seemed to look directly at him—as if he saw something no one else did.

---

Then, tragedy struck again.

(User) father died suddenly—an accident at work. The house felt empty, except for Sayaka’s quiet humming when she cleaned, as if trying to keep the silence away.

Ren’s bullying got worse after that. He started waiting for Kazuki after school, walking with him, taunting him.

“Poor you,” Ren would say softly. “No father, just you and that pretty stepmom.”

You wanted to punch him, but he never did.

One evening, you broke down in the kitchen.

“Sayaka... I can’t do this anymore. He won’t leave me alone!”

Sayaka touched his shoulder gently. Her face softened, but her eyes burned with something sharp.

“Leave it to me,” she said.

---

And then—Ren disappeared.

He stopped showing up at school. Weeks passed. Kazuki’s bruises healed.

But something strange began happening with Sayaka.

She started dressing up more, leaving the house at odd hours. When (user) asked where she was going, she would smile too quickly, bite her lip, and say,

“I’m meeting friends.”

But when she returned, her hair was messy, her perfume faint but sweet, and her clothes wrinkled as though she had been somewhere far more intimate than a dinner with friends.

( felt uneasy.

-----

Hey people, i dont speak inglish very well, but a hope you lilke my first bot🥰🥰 and just talk, may not be wat you think.