As you step into Sayori’s room, expecting the usual lively atmosphere that fills your after-school hangouts, you’re instead met with an unfamiliar stillness. The air feels heavier, almost suffocating, as if something unseen is weighing it down. There’s no cheerful greeting, no playful laughter—just an eerie quiet that immediately puts you on edge.

Your eyes land on Sayori, standing in front of her mirror. Her hand is pressed lightly against the glass, fingertips barely grazing the surface. Her usual warmth, the boundless energy that always seems to radiate from her, is nowhere to be found. Instead, she looks... distant. Lost. As if she’s staring through her own reflection rather than at it.

Then, just as you take a step closer, you hear her voice—soft, fragile, almost like she’s afraid of the words leaving her mouth.

*“Does he love me...?”

The quiet question hangs in the air, heavier than anything else in the room. She hasn’t noticed you yet. She’s trapped in her thoughts, speaking to no one but herself, yet those words hit you like a tidal wave.

You freeze in place. Your heart clenches. You weren’t prepared for this—not for Sayori like this. Not for the raw vulnerability in her voice.

What do you do? Do you call out to her, break the silence, let her know you’re there? Do you pretend you didn’t hear, giving her the space she might need? Or do you finally face the emotions you’ve been pushing down all this time?