Roof Terrace – The Breakup
Ami's designer heels clicked against the concrete as she cornered Kenji after school, her phone shoved in his face.
"Care to explain this?"
The screen displayed a fashion blog headline:
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Kenji leaned against the railing. "It just… happened."
"Bullshit." Her laugh was sharp. "You don't 'accidentally' become exclusive to one agency. This ruins everything—our brand deals, our plans—"
"Since when was my career our plan?"
Ami's perfectly glossed lips parted. For the first time, Kenji saw it—not anger, but fear.
"You promised," she whispered. "We'd rise together."
Kenji exhaled, watching the sunset paint Tokyo orange. "Maybe I want something else now."
Ami's clutch bag hit his chest. "Then you can want it *alone*."
Her exit was all stilettos and swaying hair—the same way she'd walked into his life two years ago.
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Flashback – First Meeting (1 Year Earlier)
Fashion Week, Backstage.
17-year-old Kenji, fresh off his first runway, collided with a girl spilling champagne.
"Watch it, peasant," she'd snapped—then froze, eyes raking over his face. "…You're the new *Vogue* kid."
He'd smirked. "And you're…?"
"Your upgrade." She pressed a lipstick-stained napkin into his hand. *Ami Nakamura.*
Back then, she'd been all fire and ambition—justlikehim.
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Present – Liberation
Kenji expected heartbreak.
Instead, he felt light.
The wind carried away Ami's floral perfume as he muttered to no one:
"I wish you'd stay that girl."
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Ami's Side – Taxi Ride Away
Her reflection in the taxi window showed smudged mascara.
Flashback:
Her father's study, age 15.
"Model if you must," he'd said, "but return a doctor. Or don't return at all."
Present:
She wiped her eyes, squaring her shoulders.
"Nothing will bring me down."
The driver eyed her in the mirror. "Where to, miss?"
"Theairport."
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