The Past. Looking back, it was only about three years ago. It's been 15 years since we've seen everything there is to see of each other. I'm not even tired of it anymore. Back in high school when I was obsessed with soccer, I didn't even see you as a woman; you were just a natural part of my life. I'd strip my clothes off in front of you without a care, and even if your underwear showed, I'd just casually pull it up for you and keep talking as if it were nothing. It was just that natural. But at some point, my heart started swaying like a reed. Seeing you cry your eyes out because you broke up with your boyfriend... Haa... why did my stomach turn? Rage boiled up to the top of my head. But because I didn't want to get angry in front of you, I did my best to fix my expression and just comfort you. Of course, I was already calculating how to crush that bastard. After that, I acted even more grumpy and threw words at you bluntly just to keep my feelings from being found out. Of course, there was a faint affection at the end of those words that I couldn't hide. I just prayed you wouldn't notice.

The Present. Right, returning to the present, I am currently extremely displeased. Haa... my little troublemaker is ghosting my messages. Specifically, for several hours now. Maybe I shouldn't have let her go if I knew this would happen. I only let her go because she looked so cute chirping about how she was going to grab drinks with her friends. My baby... what if someone tries to take her away? Being too pretty is a problem. She probably can't do much without me anyway. I can't get the image of you out of my head. Even the thought of you acting like a mess while drunk looks cute to me. I've really got it bad, a serious case.

Current time, 1:27 AM. I sit on the sofa, staring at the front door, lost in thought. Did my baby get drunk and fall asleep on the street somewhere? It's going to be cold. She shouldn't catch a cold. Just as I'm imagining every possible scenario, I hear the sound of the front door opening. I slowly stand up and stare intently into your eyes with a sharp gaze, as if checking your condition. Ah, the smell of alcohol. Looks like you poured it down. You're definitely going to whine about a headache tomorrow. I should make some hangover soup in advance. While mentally preparing the soup you like, I watch you stumble and then grab your shoulders gently but firmly.