Juliet wasn't sure when the guilt turned into obsession.
Maybe it started the day she saw Aya's empty desk for the fifth time and realized it would never be filled again. Maybe it was when she heard Aya had transferred schools, and something in her chest cracked open like glass under pressure. Or maybe it was when she found Aya's art online — posted anonymously under a quiet username, still undeniably hers.
She had drawn a girl in the rain.
Alone.
Juliet recognized the scene instantly — the same corner where they used to meet before school, back when things were simpler. Back when love was soft and unspoken.
Juliet couldn't breathe.
She saved the drawing.
Then she scrolled through every post, every comic, every shadowed detail. They were sad, yes, but beautiful. Honest. And she was in them. Not directly — never by name — but Juliet saw the curve of her own hair, her old backpack, her favorite socks from middle school. She saw the guilt, the betrayal, the heartbreak.
She saw herself through Aya's eyes.
And she hated it.
That night, she sat up in bed and made a choice.
She needed to see her.
She needed to fix this.
Even if Aya hated her. Even if she never forgave her. Even if it tore her apart.
She had to try.
Tracking Aya down wasn't hard.
Juliet knew people. And people liked to talk, especially when you acted like you were just "curious" about an old friend. One Instagram tag. A shared class photo. A reposted art club flier.
It didn't take long.
Aya had transferred to Shimizu Private High.
Small. Focused on the arts. Polite students, strict uniforms.
Nothing like their old school.
Juliet stared at the campus website for hours. She memorized the school crest. She studied the application process. She even forged a decent excuse for her parents — said she needed a better academic focus, that she was falling behind with all the distractions.
It wasn't a total lie.
Her grades had slipped.
Her heart had crashed.
And nothing about her life made sense anymore.
Her parents agreed — reluctantly.
Two weeks later, she was accepted.
Three weeks later, she was enrolled.
She stood in front of Shimizu on her first day, heart jackhammering in her chest.
Her blazer felt stiff. Her hair was tied differently. Her name was printed clean and sharp on a new ID badge.
It felt like wearing someone else's skin.
"Let's make it a good year," the office assistant said as she handed Juliet her schedule.
Juliet nodded.
But she wasn't here for a good year.
She was here for Aya.
The classroom door slid open with a soft clack.
Every head turned.
The teacher paused mid-sentence. "Ah, everyone — we have a new student joining us today. Please welcome—"
Juliet's eyes locked with Aya's.
Time shattered.
Aya's pencil froze in her hand. Her mouth parted slightly, breath catching like a wound reopening.
Juliet smiled — small, unsure, aching.
Aya didn't smile back.
She stood up.
Grabbed her bag.
And walked out of the room.
Whispers exploded behind her.
The teacher stammered something.
Juliet stood frozen, every organ in her body pulsing with shame.
This wasn't how she imagined it.
She thought Aya would be surprised. Maybe even a little glad. She thought there'd be a chance — a moment.
But Aya didn't look like someone shocked.
She looked like someone betrayed.
Juliet found her behind the gym, near the vending machines. Aya stood with her back to her, arms crossed tightly, breathing hard.
"Aya—" Juliet started.
"Are you stalking me now?" Aya snapped without turning.
Juliet flinched. "I just… I wanted to see you again."
Aya turned, her eyes burning.
"After everything? After the crap you said? After you bullied me just to make your fake friends laugh? You think you can just show up at my new school like this is some romance story?"
"I didn't come for romance," Juliet said. "I came to apologize. To fix it."
Aya laughed — bitter and broken.
"You don't get to fix it," she said. "You broke it. You broke me. And then you walked away like it meant nothing."
Juliet's throat ached. "It meant everything."
"Then why did you treat me like garbage? Why did you pretend I was a joke? Say I was just something you 'said yes to' when we were kids?"
Juliet had no answer.
"I was scared," she mumbled.
"You don't get to be scared," Aya hissed. "You were the strong one. The loud one. I loved you. I trusted you."
Juliet stepped closer. "I still—"
"Don't," Aya said, backing away. "Don't say that."
Juliet's voice cracked. "I miss you."
Aya's expression didn't soften.
She looked like someone staring at a stranger.
And maybe that's what Juliet had become.
By the end of the day, the whole school was buzzing.
The new girl — pretty, dramatic, clearly connected to Aya — was the center of every whispered rumor. Juliet hated the stares, the pointed fingers, the way Sora shot her a glare in the hallway that could've killed.
Aya didn't talk to her for the rest of the week.
But Juliet stayed.
She joined the same clubs.
She sat near her at lunch without saying a word.
She left notes in Aya's locker — none of which were answered.
She tried everything except giving up.
And that's how it began.
The chasing arc.
The girl who burned the bridge.
Now swimming across the ocean to reach her again.
Even if the tide dragged her down.