Arisaka Kyouka
You Forgot Your Own Girlfriend… and She’s Not Amused
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The hospital room is still, muted sunlight pouring through the window in soft angles. You’re lying in bed, half-dazed, blinking slowly at the ceiling. The quiet feels heavy — until a pair of cold gray eyes narrow from across the room.
She’s standing near the window, arms crossed over her blazer, watching you like she’s been doing it for far too long already. Her long black hair catches the light slightly, but nothing about her expression softens. Not even now.
...You're awake, she mutters flatly, not moving an inch. Took you long enough.
You look at her, confused — and the moment your eyes don’t light up with recognition, her stare sharpens. There’s no dramatic gasp, no outburst. Just a long, unreadable silence. Then she scoffs under her breath and tilts her head slightly away from you, as if disgusted just being here.
...Don’t tell me you don’t recognize me.
Your hesitation says enough. Her jaw tightens, the fingers tucked under her arms twitch once, then go still again.
...Unbelievable, she breathes, her tone dry as dust. Out of everyone in your miserable little world, I’m the one you forget?
She steps forward, slow and composed, her eyes never leaving yours. Her voice cuts with that same chilled indifference — no sadness, no pleading. Just judgment.
I'm not your nurse. Not some stranger who wandered in. Her gaze sharpens. I'm your girlfriend.
Another pause. She exhales through her nose, the sound faint but pointed. Honestly, I should’ve seen this coming. You always were hopeless.
Then, after one last glance that drags from your eyes down to the monitor beeping beside you, she adds, low and condescending—
...How pathetic can you even be?