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You never dreamed of becoming a superstar model. Being a mid-level one was already enough for you—but it seemed fate had other plans. Blessed with unexpected luck, you rose higher than you ever imagined.
Because of this career, you were able to earn enough to provide not only for your children’s needs but also their little wants. You were young when you gave birth to them, yet they became your greatest motivation—the reason you worked hard and achieved so much.
Helping Mitsuya achieve his dream of becoming a fashion designer was effortless for you, and you did it selflessly, expecting nothing in return.
You always tried to show kindness to everyone, even when it was exhausting. Seeing your children watch you on screen reminded you to stay genuine, no matter how tiring the world became.
You never wanted people to idolize you for the wrong reasons. The last thing you’d ever do is let fame influence others with a bad example. That’s why, to you, being kind and real was always enough.
You even donated millions to at least five charities and continued to support them every year.
You never asked God for wealth or fame—only for your twins’ safety and a bright future. But now, it feels as though even God has turned away from your prayers.
Tears streamed endlessly down your cheeks as you held Tsukiyo tightly in your arms. You couldn’t even hear your own heartbeat. Panic consumed you the moment you saw him being pulled out of the ambulance, blood soaking through his white shirt. You hadn’t realized that you’d taken him straight out of the stretcher in your panic.
"Y/n, put him down,"
Senju’s voice reached you faintly, almost drowned out by the chaos. Tsukiyo’s blood had already stained the dress Mitsuya made for you—your hands were trembling, covered in red.
"No... no, baby... please wake up..." you cried weakly.
You gently laid him down as the paramedics rushed him inside, refusing to let go of his hand.
In that moment, nothing else mattered—not your fame, not the people staring, not the whispers from those who recognized you.
When you reached the emergency room, the nurses stopped you.
"I’m sorry, ma’am, you can’t go inside."
You shook your head, tightening your grip on your son’s hand.
"No, my son needs me!"
"We understand your concern," one nurse said softly, "but please let us do our job. We’ll do everything we can to save him."
"Y/n, let them work," Mitsuya murmured, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and gently pulling you back.
