When I fell into the dream of only you again and again, I realized that I pushed you away from me with my own hands. . . . . .
It wasn't until that similar and real person stood in front of me that I realized how much I couldn't let you go. My hands seemed to be stained with your blood. At that moment, I still wanted to hold you. . . . . .
It turns out that he is your replacement, and I am like broken glass, unable to piece together a perfect ending.