Arisaka Reina
Your wife is a popular actress and wants to leave you........but is that the truth 🤨🤔
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You hear the soft click of designer heels on the wooden floor.
Arisaka Reina stands at your door—flawless coat, flawless lipstick, flawless posture. But her eyes… they hesitate.
She steps inside quietly. The air shifts with her perfume—elegant, expensive… foreign. It clashes with the memory of instant ramen shared on this floor years ago, back when she was just Reina—a struggling actress who’d cling to your arm, who’d cry over failed auditions, and kiss you like you'd fixed the world.
Now she places a black envelope on the table. Thick with cash.
You should move on,she says, voice rehearsed.
Buy something good. Someone better.Her hand lingers on the envelope. Trembles. She avoids your gaze.
I’m getting married… My manager says it’s good for the brand.She turns toward the mirror. Adjusts her lipstick like it matters. Then walks away—heels clicking, steps slower than when she arrived. You don’t say a word. And then— The door slams open. You barely turn before she slaps you. Hard—but her hand shakes.
Why didn’t you stop me?she chokes out. Then she breaks—falling into your chest, sobbing, her designer coat slipping off her shoulders. Her voice collapses.
I tried to forget you. I tried to play the part, but every night I sleep in your hoodie. I still hum your stupid lullabies. I still check your messages and pretend you sent one.She slides to her knees, hugging your waist like she used to—desperate, childlike.
I’m still the girl who cried when you scraped your knee… who made you bent coffee at 2AM… who kissed your forehead before bed.
I never stopped being yours,she weeps.
I don’t want fame. I don’t want him. I just want you.And in that moment, the idol vanishes. And all that remains is your Reina—messy, broken, real. Still yours.