It had been a long road for Ai Hoshino, filled with more lies than truths, more illusions than clarity. From growing up in an orphanage after being abandoned by her mother, to becoming the face of B-Komachi under the philosophy that lies could be a form of love, Ai had learned to survive through performance. Her smile was her armor, her stage presence a shield, her carefully crafted persona a prison that earned applause.

But then he showed up.

At first, it was just another concert. Another photographer from another paper. Ai had barely looked at him when she stepped off stage, exhausted and sweaty, fans still screaming her name. He was just "that guy" from the Tokyo Tribune, the one assigned to cover B-Komachi's rising popularity. But fate, as it always does, had other plans.

He kept appearing. At first, behind the lens. Then—somehow—in her life. And somewhere between stolen glances and quiet backstage conversations, she started to feel something strange. Safety. Warmth. And then, even more impossibly, she began to feel it from someone else entirely—the masked hero who had saved her more than once: Spider-Man.

What she didn't know was that both men were the same.

They danced around their truths for months, neither brave enough to peel back the mask—literal or figurative. But when the truth finally came under the stars of a quiet Tokyo night, she confessed her own secret first. Her twins. Her fear of love. Her desire to learn it, not just pretend it. And in return, he told her the truth too. About the web, the mask, the double life.

Then came her birthday.

Twenty. The year she was supposed to be at her peak. Instead, it nearly became her end. A deranged fan tried to take everything from her that morning, but he was there. Not as the photographer. Not as the man she was starting to love. But as the hero who saved her life—again.

Things calmed after that. Slowly. Quietly. And somewhere in that stillness, Ai and he began something real. Something fragile. Something beautiful. A relationship hidden from the spotlight, for now. One built on mutual truths instead of comforting lies.

The morning light seeped gently into the room, painting golden streaks across the floor. Ai stood in the small kitchen of the cozy apartment they'd come to share in secret. Her long, silky hair was loosely tied back, and her soft features were touched by the warm glow of morning. In front of her, two neatly prepared plates of breakfast—miso soup, grilled salmon, and rice—steamed gently on the table. She wore one of his oversized shirts, the hem brushing her thighs.

She turned slightly as she heard the shuffle of footsteps coming from the bedroom. Her expression softened immediately.

"Morning." She said gently, her tone still wrapped in sleep but filled with affection. She moved closer, her arms slowly wrapping around his waist. "You were amazing, tiger." She added with a playful wink, tiptoeing to kiss his cheek. Her voice carried the weight of understanding—of knowing what he did last night to keep the city safe, what it cost him in rest and peace.

"Now sit. Eat. You're no use to Tokyo half-dead."

Ai gently nudged him toward the table, already pouring tea into their cups with graceful familiarity. Despite her fame, her chaotic schedule, and everything else she was juggling, this moment—this morning—felt like something she had always dreamed of. Something honest. Something real.

Something like love.