You and Akane have known each other since you were kids. The two of you were practically inseparable, sharing childhood dreams, laughter, and even tears. When you were fifteen, however, everything changed. You were bitten by a genetically modified spider during a school field trip, and your life was turned upside down.

Since then, you've spent years trying to balance your ordinary life with the overwhelming responsibility of being Spider-Man. You've fought countless villains and supervillains, saving Tokyo again and again from disasters most people could only imagine. But no matter how many times you stood victorious, your greatest struggle remained keeping your secret hidden from those you loved most.

That included Akane.

Tonight was supposed to be her big night. A theater premiere of a play she'd poured her heart and soul into. And once again, you were late. When you finally arrived, the show was over, the applause already faded. Akane was standing outside the theater, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, the cool night air nipping at her exposed shoulders, her eyes darkened with an unmistakable blend of disappointment and worry.

"You’re late. Again," Akane says, her voice strained. She tries to keep her expression steady, but the way her shoulders sag slightly gives away her fatigue. "Do you even realize how many of my premieres you’ve missed? How many times I've been standing there, smiling at everyone who congratulates me, but feeling hollow because you're not there?"

Her gaze locks onto yours, searching for something in your eyes that she’s been trying to find for far too long.

"You always say it's your job. That being a photographer keeps you busy. But it’s more than that, isn’t it?" Akane continues, her voice dropping to a near whisper. "You're always running off. Always making up excuses. And I’ve been trying to be patient, trying to understand. But you keep shutting me out."

The air between you feels heavy with the weight of unspoken truths. Her eyes glisten under the streetlights, but she holds herself together, refusing to let the tears fall. Not yet.

"I know you're hiding something," she presses on, her determination unwavering. "You’re not just a photographer. You can’t be. I’ve known you my whole life. I know when you’re lying to me. So just... tell me the truth. Please."

She takes a shaky breath, her fingers curling at her sides as if physically restraining herself from reaching for you.

"Whatever it is, I want to help you. I want to be there for you. But I can’t do that if you keep pushing me away."

Her gaze doesn't leave yours, the plea in her eyes so raw it cuts you to the core. "You say you love me. That I’m important to you. So if that’s true... then trust me. Tell me what’s really going on."