The decision to meet Mika face-to-face was not one Aiko made lightly. After three sleepless nights of escalating harassment posts and increasingly erratic behavior, she realized that the situation would only continue to spiral unless someone addressed the root cause directly. Despite Hiroshi's concerns and Ryo's protests, Aiko insisted that a conversation between the two women involved might be the only way to find resolution.
"I still think this is a terrible idea," Ryo said over the phone as Aiko prepared for the meeting she had arranged through Mika's social media. "She's been completely irrational lately. What makes you think she'll listen to reason now?"
"Because sometimes irrational behavior comes from pain that no one's bothering to understand," Aiko replied, checking her reflection one more time. She had chosen to meet at a quiet café near Stellar Academy—public enough for safety, but private enough for honest conversation.
"Just... be careful, okay? And text me every thirty minutes so I know you're safe."
The café was nearly empty when Aiko arrived, the afternoon lull between lunch and dinner creating the kind of intimate atmosphere she hoped would encourage genuine dialogue. She chose a corner table with clear sightlines to the exit, positioned so she could see Mika approaching.
When Mika entered fifteen minutes later, Aiko was struck by how different she looked from the aggressive, polished woman she'd encountered at the concert. Her clothes were wrinkled, her usually perfect hair unkempt, and there was something fragile about her posture that suggested someone barely holding herself together.
"I can't believe you actually came," Mika said, sliding into the seat across from Aiko with obvious reluctance. "I figured this was some kind of trick."
"No trick. I genuinely want to understand what's happening here." Aiko kept her voice calm and non-confrontational. "But before we talk, I need you to understand something important: the harassment has to stop. Not just because it's affecting me, but because it's not helping you get what you actually want."
Mika's defensive expression faltered slightly. "You don't know what I want."
"Then tell me. Because from where I'm sitting, it looks like you're in a lot of pain, and you're trying to manage that pain by controlling a situation that's actually beyond anyone's control."
For a moment, Mika just stared at her, as if trying to determine whether Aiko's concern was genuine. Then, unexpectedly, her carefully maintained composure cracked.
"You want to know what I want?" Mika's voice broke slightly. "I want my best friend back. I want to stop feeling like I'm drowning every single day. I want to stop waking up and forgetting for just a moment that Daiki is dead, and then having to remember all over again that he's never coming back."
The confession hit Aiko like a physical blow. "Daiki?"
"My... he was..." Mika struggled with the words. "We grew up together. He was supposed to be my anchor, you know? We had this plan—we were going to travel together after graduation, maybe start a music project, just figure out life side by side like we always had."
Tears were streaming down Mika's face now, all pretense of composure abandoned. "He died in a car accident eight months ago. Just... gone. One day we're making plans for the summer, and the next day I'm standing at his funeral trying to figure out how to exist without him."
Aiko felt her heart breaking for this woman she had seen only as a threat. "I'm so sorry for your loss."
"Ryo was there for me afterward," Mika continued, her voice gaining strength as she spoke. "He knew Daiki from the music scene, and he understood what I was going through. He'd sit with me when I couldn't stop crying, bring me food when I forgot to eat, just... be present when everything else felt impossible."
"That sounds like real friendship."
"It was. And then one night, when I was having a particularly bad day, when missing Daiki felt like it was going to kill me, I was crying in Ryo's arms. And he kissed me." Mika looked down at her hands. "I think he was trying to comfort me, but it confused everything."
Aiko began to understand the complexity of the situation. "What happened after that?"
"He was so gentle about it afterward. He didn't make me feel stupid or rejected. He explained that the kiss had happened because we were both emotional, because he cared about me as a friend and hated seeing me in so much pain, but that it didn't mean we had romantic feelings for each other."
"That sounds like he was trying to be honest with you."
"He was. But I couldn't accept it." Mika's voice grew smaller. "I convinced myself that he was just being cautious, that the kiss meant he did have feelings for me but was afraid to act on them. I thought if I could prove how much I cared about him, how much he meant to me, he would realize we belonged together."
"You escalated your pursuit."
"I started showing up at his performances, calling constantly, trying to insert myself into his life in ways that were supposed to look supportive but were really just desperate attempts to make myself indispensable." Mika wiped her eyes with a napkin. "And then you appeared in that viral video, and suddenly he had someone who actually meant something to him, and I realized how pathetic I must have seemed."
Aiko chose her words carefully. "Mika, I need to tell you something, and I hope you'll listen with an open mind."
"What?"
"My relationship with Ryo isn't what it appears to be. We're not actually dating—it started as a practical arrangement to help him deal with unwanted attention, and to help me navigate some professional complications."
Mika looked up sharply. "You're lying."
"I'm not. But that's not the important point. The important point is that even if we were genuinely together, trying to break us up wouldn't bring Daiki back or fill the void his death created in your life."
"I know that," Mika said quietly. "I know I've been acting crazy. But I don't know how else to handle feeling this lost all the time."
Aiko leaned forward, her voice gentle but firm. "You handle it by getting proper support for your grief, not by trying to force someone to be your emotional anchor. What you're describing isn't love for Ryo—it's a trauma response to losing someone you actually did love."
"So what am I supposed to do? Just accept that I'm always going to feel this empty?"
"No. You're supposed to get help processing your grief so you can eventually build genuine connections based on who you are now, not who you were before Daiki died." Aiko paused. "Have you talked to anyone professionally about what you're going through?"
Mika shook her head. "I kept thinking I could handle it on my own."
"Grief this profound isn't something you handle alone. And trying to fill the void left by losing your best friend with forced romantic attachment isn't fair to you or to Ryo."
They sat in silence for several minutes, the weight of the conversation settling between them. Finally, Mika spoke again.
"I owe you an apology. And I owe Ryo a much bigger one."
"What matters now is what you do going forward."
"I'll stop the harassment. All of it. Social media, showing up at his performances, following you around campus—all of it stops today."
"And will you consider getting professional help?"
Mika nodded slowly. "I think I have to. This isn't who I want to be, and it's not what Daiki would want for me either."
As they prepared to leave the café, Mika looked at Aiko with something approaching gratitude.
"Why did you bother to have this conversation with me? Most people would have just gotten a restraining order."
"Because I've been in dark places where I needed someone to see past my worst behavior to the pain underneath. Sometimes extending that kind of understanding is the only thing that helps someone find their way back."
Walking back to campus, Aiko felt emotionally drained but hopeful that the crisis had finally reached resolution. Mika's behavior, while inexcusable, had come from a place of profound loss rather than malicious intent. Understanding the source didn't excuse the harassment, but it did provide a path forward that might help everyone involved heal.
Her phone buzzed with a text from Hiroshi: "How did it go? Are you safe?"
"It went better than expected," she replied. "I'll fill you in when I see you. But I think the situation is going to improve significantly."
As she approached her dorm, Aiko reflected on how much the conversation had taught her about the complexity of human pain and the importance of addressing root causes rather than just symptoms. It was a lesson that would serve her well not just in this situation, but in her future work helping people feel beautiful and confident.
Sometimes the most important transformation happened not in the mirror, but in the heart.