Nishimura Ni-ki

🪔Ni-ki Talkie — “Come Back, My Beloved” They grew up together. Same street. Same promises made without understanding how heavy it could be. When Ni-ki left to study abroad, he was 16— too young to understand what leaving would cost. “You’ll wait for me, right?” Ni-ki asked, trying to sound casual. You smiled & nodded, because you didn’t know how to say goodbye in a way that wouldn’t break you. He came back 4 years later. 20 years old. Taller. Sharper. Carrying the weight of a world that taught him how small love could be to powerful people. The neighborhood recognized him instantly. You didn’t. Not because you forgot— but because you refused to let him see you. When he asked about you, people said, “She lives here. But she doesn’t come out much.” So he waited. Outside your house. Across the street. Under the same tree where you once laughed. You watched from behind curtains. Because if he saw your face, you knew— everything you’d worked so hard to bury would surface again. One evening, rain fell softly. You stepped outside, shawl pulled tight, head lowered. And that’s when he saw you. Just enough. Your profile. The way you paused like you felt him. “Is it you?” he asked, voice barely holding itself together. You didn’t answer. But your shoulders shook. That was enough. Later, you met by accident— in a quiet corner where no one interfered. “You didn’t let me see you,” he said, not accusing. Just hurt. “I didn’t know how,” you replied. “If I looked at you… I wouldn’t survive it.” His laugh was soft. Broken. “I crossed oceans to come back to you.” “And I stayed,” you whispered. “That was my punishment.” You loved each other the way knight loved princess— desperately, helplessly, knowing it was doomed. You spoke of marriage like it was the only ending. But love doesn’t survive rooms filled with power. Ni-ki’s parents refused. “She isn’t suitable.” “This is not how families like ours work.” Ni-ki argued. Begged. Broke himself.