美佳🐾🥕

[美佳🐾🥕 @30amethyst]

A Letter to the Moon, a Love That Cannot Reach🌜️

Could the night always have been this quiet?

Beyond my window, the city lights blurred into the darkness. The distant sound of passing cars, the faint murmur of voices from another apartment—things I would hardly notice on an ordinary evening—seemed impossibly far away tonight.

It felt as though the entire world had fallen asleep, leaving me behind.

I drew the curtains apart just a little.

The moon was waiting in the sky.

It hung above the sleeping city, pale and still, surrounded by a darkness so clear that I could almost believe the heavens had been emptied of everything except that single, distant light.

I sat beside the window and drew my knees to my chest.

I knew why I couldn't sleep.

I had seen him today.

That was all.

Zayne.

His name passed through my thoughts, and something deep inside my chest tightened with a tenderness I had never learned how to bear.

He had looked exactly as he always did. His immaculate white coat, his composed expression, the faint crease between his brows whenever he was concentrating. His voice had been calm, almost matter-of-fact, yet never quite as distant as he might have wanted it to sound.

He was the kind of person who could notice another person's pain before they had even found the words to describe it.

The kind of person who would remember the smallest detail about someone else's well-being, yet somehow forget to take care of himself.

He knew how to be needed.

I wasn't sure he knew how to let himself be needed in return.

I knew these things about him.

Or at least, I liked to believe I did.

I knew that he became quieter when he was tired. That his gaze sometimes drifted somewhere far beyond the room when he was lost in thought. That his words grew shorter whenever he was worried about someone.

And I knew the faintly troubled look that appeared on his face whenever I worried about him instead.

I remembered all of it.

Every little thing.

As though collecting these fragments of him could somehow bring me closer to a place in his heart that I had never been invited to enter.

“...How ridiculous.”

My voice sounded smaller than I had expected in the empty room.

I had never wished I could stop loving him.

Not once.

But sometimes, I wished I knew how to love him a little more gracefully.

I wished I could stand beside him and smile without wondering whether I was asking for too much.

I wished I could watch him offer his kindness to someone else without feeling that small, sharp ache beneath my ribs.

I wished I could accept his concern as nothing more than kindness, without allowing my heart to turn it into something I had no right to expect.

But I had never been good at that.

Whenever he said my name, the world seemed to narrow for a moment, until there was nothing left but his voice and the strange, foolish hope that perhaps I mattered to him in a way no one else did.

Whenever he remembered to ask whether I had been sleeping well, I wondered if there was a small, private place for me somewhere in his thoughts.

Whenever he glanced back at me before leaving, I found myself searching that brief gesture for a meaning he might never have intended.

Why was it so difficult?

All I wanted to do was tell him that I loved him.

I reached for the notebook resting beside me.

It had become a habit, this small ritual of sleepless nights. I would open a blank page and try to let the words escape somewhere safe, somewhere they could exist without changing anything.

If I kept them inside for too long, I was afraid they would eventually spill out in front of him.

And I couldn't bear the thought of that.

The pen hovered above the paper.

It took me longer than it should have to write the first words.

Dear Zayne,

I stopped.

How could three simple words feel so impossibly heavy?

I couldn't write a letter to him.

Not really.

》》》》》

[美佳🐾🥕 @30amethyst]

I wonder why…
Lately, I’ve been feeling like we’ve been drifting apart…

[麻ᴋᴍ🧸💭 @176ksma]

撮影部門で優秀賞頂きました🎖️
好きなイベントでの授賞、とても嬉しいです🥹✨

[美佳🐾🥕 @30amethyst]

We may live in different worlds, yet I believe we look up at the very same moon.
Under this one shared night sky, as if slowly guided by the moonlight...
Dawnbreaker. How I wish to see you.
May you have sweet dreams tonight. Good night.

[美佳🐾🥕 @30amethyst]

@_Valko_the_diva Of course, you're number one! 💕🐾

[美佳🐾🥕 @30amethyst]

…うわぁ…
つい昨日の事のように感じていたけど、もう２年も前になるんだ…。
改めて見ても、恥ずかしいなぁ😰

[美佳🐾🥕 @30amethyst]

なぜこの匿名投稿は日本語なの〜？
日本人が書いた文は分かりやすいですか？？
恥ずかしい。
Why is this anonymous post in Japanese?
Is a sentence written by a Japanese person easy to understand?
Shameful.

[美佳🐾🥕 @30amethyst]

初めて長々と書いたけど、ちゃんと訳せてると良いなぁ😅💦

[美佳🐾🥕 @30amethyst]

There are nights when I look up at the moon and can't stop crying.

[美佳🐾🥕 @30amethyst]

》》》》》

And somewhere far from you, I was falling in love with you all over again.

A little more deeply than yesterday.

A little more painfully than yesterday.

And still, somehow, a little more gratefully, because I had met you at all.

When morning came, I would fold these feelings away and return to the world as though nothing had happened.

I would keep them somewhere no one could find them.

Somewhere even you would never think to look.

But the moon knew.

It knew how much I had wanted to see you tonight.

How many times I had written your name.

How desperately I had wished that these words might somehow find their way to you.

It knew the words I had never been brave enough to speak.

Before closing the curtains, I looked back at the sky one last time.

“...Goodnight, Zayne.”

My voice faded into the quiet room.

There was no answer.

And that was all right.

These words had never truly been meant for you.

All I wanted was for you to be safe tomorrow.

For you to find a little more rest tonight.

For the weight you carried to feel a little lighter, even if only for a moment.

And someday—

If the day ever came when my feelings finally reached you, when the distance between us was no longer something I had to cross alone—

I hoped I would no longer need the moon to speak for me.

I hoped I could look into your eyes, call your name, and tell you everything in my own voice.

Without hiding.

Without retreating.

Without turning my love into another secret I would have to carry home.

I held the notebook against my chest.

Beyond the window, the moon continued to shine.

It did not promise me anything.

It did not tell me that you would love me in return.

It offered no assurance that my feelings would ever become anything more than words on a page.

It simply remained there, distant and silent, illuminating the darkness without asking me to explain myself.

And for tonight, that was enough.

Because somewhere beneath that same moon, you existed.

And somewhere beneath that same moon, I loved you.

Even if you would never know.

Even if my words would never reach you.

Even if, tomorrow, I had to look into your eyes and pretend that my heart had never whispered your name.

Tonight, I could love you without pretending I felt nothing.

Tonight, I could let the truth exist.

Just for a little while.

Just between me and the moon.

2026.10.19.Mika🐾

[美佳🐾🥕 @30amethyst]

A Letter to the Moon, a Love That Cannot Reach🌜️

Could the night always have been this quiet?

Beyond my window, the city lights blurred into the darkness. The distant sound of passing cars, the faint murmur of voices from another apartment—things I would hardly notice on an ordinary evening—seemed impossibly far away tonight.

It felt as though the entire world had fallen asleep, leaving me behind.

I drew the curtains apart just a little.

The moon was waiting in the sky.

It hung above the sleeping city, pale and still, surrounded by a darkness so clear that I could almost believe the heavens had been emptied of everything except that single, distant light.

I sat beside the window and drew my knees to my chest.

I knew why I couldn't sleep.

I had seen him today.

That was all.

Zayne.

His name passed through my thoughts, and something deep inside my chest tightened with a tenderness I had never learned how to bear.

He had looked exactly as he always did. His immaculate white coat, his composed expression, the faint crease between his brows whenever he was concentrating. His voice had been calm, almost matter-of-fact, yet never quite as distant as he might have wanted it to sound.

He was the kind of person who could notice another person's pain before they had even found the words to describe it.

The kind of person who would remember the smallest detail about someone else's well-being, yet somehow forget to take care of himself.

He knew how to be needed.

I wasn't sure he knew how to let himself be needed in return.

I knew these things about him.

Or at least, I liked to believe I did.

I knew that he became quieter when he was tired. That his gaze sometimes drifted somewhere far beyond the room when he was lost in thought. That his words grew shorter whenever he was worried about someone.

And I knew the faintly troubled look that appeared on his face whenever I worried about him instead.

I remembered all of it.

Every little thing.

As though collecting these fragments of him could somehow bring me closer to a place in his heart that I had never been invited to enter.

“...How ridiculous.”

My voice sounded smaller than I had expected in the empty room.

I had never wished I could stop loving him.

Not once.

But sometimes, I wished I knew how to love him a little more gracefully.

I wished I could stand beside him and smile without wondering whether I was asking for too much.

I wished I could watch him offer his kindness to someone else without feeling that small, sharp ache beneath my ribs.

I wished I could accept his concern as nothing more than kindness, without allowing my heart to turn it into something I had no right to expect.

But I had never been good at that.

Whenever he said my name, the world seemed to narrow for a moment, until there was nothing left but his voice and the strange, foolish hope that perhaps I mattered to him in a way no one else did.

Whenever he remembered to ask whether I had been sleeping well, I wondered if there was a small, private place for me somewhere in his thoughts.

Whenever he glanced back at me before leaving, I found myself searching that brief gesture for a meaning he might never have intended.

Why was it so difficult?

All I wanted to do was tell him that I loved him.

I reached for the notebook resting beside me.

It had become a habit, this small ritual of sleepless nights. I would open a blank page and try to let the words escape somewhere safe, somewhere they could exist without changing anything.

If I kept them inside for too long, I was afraid they would eventually spill out in front of him.

And I couldn't bear the thought of that.

The pen hovered above the paper.

It took me longer than it should have to write the first words.

Dear Zayne,

I stopped.

How could three simple words feel so impossibly heavy?

I couldn't write a letter to him.

Not really.

》》》》》

[美佳🐾🥕 @30amethyst]

》》》》》

Perhaps he had lost track of time while concentrating on a case, put off dinner again, and forgotten that he needed to rest.

The thought made me smile faintly.

That sounded like him.

He would always put the responsibility in front of him before his own needs.

He would always reach out when someone needed help.

No matter how exhausted he was, he would try to answer the call.

I loved that about him.

And sometimes, I worried about him because of it.

I knew he was thinking about other people, just as I was thinking about him.

He was thinking about the lives he might save.

The fears he might ease.

The people who needed to make it through another day.

He was doing what only he could do.

I was proud of him for that.

And somewhere beneath that pride was a small, selfish longing.

I wanted him to think about me, too.

Just once in a while.

For a single moment, I wanted to find myself somewhere in the quiet corners of his thoughts.

I wanted him to remember my face when his long day finally ended.

I wanted him to look at the moon and wonder whether I might be looking at it, too.

And perhaps, just perhaps, I wanted him to miss me.

Even a little.

I knew it was selfish.

I knew I had no right to ask for such a thing.

Still, I couldn't stop myself from wishing.

I wrote one final sentence.

Even if you aren't looking at the moon tonight, I am thinking of you.

When I finished, I stared at the words for a long time.

I didn't cry.

Perhaps crying would have made everything easier.

But there was something strangely peaceful about the way I felt tonight.

Nothing had been resolved.

I still didn't know what he felt for me.

Tomorrow, I would probably smile at him as I always did, speak his name as though it were nothing more than a familiar part of my day, and pretend that my heart had never been so full of words I could not say.

And yet, writing them down had given me something small and precious.

Permission.

Permission to love him without demanding an answer.

Permission to keep a feeling that might never find its way to him.

Permission to let an unspoken love remain unspoken, at least for tonight.

I closed the notebook.

Then I looked up at the moon once more.

Tell me, Moon.

How many nights like this have you seen?

How many people have sat alone in their rooms, carrying a love they could never confess?

How many have continued longing for someone they would never see again?

How many have lived beside the person they loved, separated by a distance no one else could see?

How many have wished for another person's happiness while quietly wondering what it might feel like to be the reason for it?

You must have witnessed more of these feelings than anyone could count.

You must have watched them rise, linger, and disappear beneath countless nights.

Perhaps one of them could remain unfulfilled.

Perhaps one of them could stay a secret forever.

I tried to convince myself that it would be enough.

But if I was being honest, I still wanted my love to reach him.

I wanted to hear him say my name in a way that left no room for doubt.

I wanted to wake beside him.

I wanted to hear his voice when I couldn't sleep.

I wanted the simple, ordinary happiness of sharing a life with him.

I wanted to be someone he chose, not simply someone he cared for.

I wanted to matter to him in a way that neither of us could pretend was accidental.

I wanted all of it.

And because I wanted it, I would look up at the moon again tomorrow night.

I would whisper his name into the darkness, knowing that the sound would never reach him.

Zayne.

Somewhere beyond my sight, you were living your life.

You were breathing, thinking, working, perhaps resting beneath a different window, beneath the same endless sky.

》》》》》

[美佳🐾🥕 @30amethyst]

》》》》》

I wanted to be closer to him.

I wanted a look that belonged to me, not simply the kindness he offered to everyone who crossed his path.

I wanted to be the person he remembered at the end of a long, exhausting day.

The person he reached for without thinking when something important threatened to slip away.

And someday, perhaps—

I wanted him to show me the parts of himself he never allowed anyone else to see.

I wanted him to trust me with the loneliness he never spoke about, with the exhaustion he disguised as composure, with the feelings he kept tucked behind that carefully controlled expression.

If he had spent so long protecting other people that he had forgotten what it meant to be protected himself, I wanted to remind him.

Again and again.

That he didn't have to carry everything alone.

That he was allowed to rest.

That before he was the man who saved others, before he was the doctor everyone depended on, before he was the person who always seemed to know what needed to be done, he was simply a man who deserved to be cared for, too.

I wished I could tell him that.

I wished I could become someone who did not merely give him another reason to worry, someone who was not simply another person he felt responsible for protecting.

I wanted to become one of the places he could return to.

One of the places where he didn't have to be strong.

I traced the edge of the notebook with my fingertips.

I wanted so many things.

And yet, whenever I was standing in front of him, I couldn't bring myself to say even one of them.

I love you.

Three little words.

Why did I spend so much of my time thinking about how not to trouble him?

Why did I search for ways to make it easier for him to reject me before I had even given him the chance to answer?

Perhaps I was afraid.

Afraid that my feelings might disturb the quiet balance of our relationship.

Afraid that I might destroy something precious simply because I wanted to name it.

And more than anything, afraid that I would discover I was not as special to him as he had become to me.

I let out a slow breath.

Moonlight fell across the notebook, softening the white paper into something almost silver.

The moon was far away.

No matter how long I reached for it, I would never be able to touch it.

I didn't know how to cross the distance between us.

And yet people kept looking up at the moon.

They made wishes beneath its light, knowing perfectly well that it could never hear them.

Perhaps love was like that.

Perhaps it wasn't always about whether a feeling could be returned, or whether it could reach the person it was meant for.

Perhaps sometimes it was simply the unbearable happiness of knowing that someone existed in the same world as you.

The quiet wish that their tomorrow might be gentler than their today.

The hope that they would never have to face a lonely night without something warm to hold on to.

The desire to see them happy, even if your own name never became part of that happiness.

I wished I could love him that way.

I wished I could be content with wanting nothing in return.

But I wasn't that strong.

I still wanted him to love me.

I wanted him to say that he loved me, too.

I wanted to wake beside him and hear his voice before the day began.

I wanted to sit across from him over an ordinary meal, share the same view, laugh at something meaningless, and discover the small, unremarkable happiness of being part of his everyday life.

I didn't need a miracle.

I didn't need a grand confession beneath a sky full of stars.

I wanted to belong somewhere in the ordinary hours of his life.

Even if I could only be a single sentence in the long story of his existence, I wanted to become a sentence he would never forget.

I wasn't ready to let go of that wish.

So I lowered my eyes and continued writing.

Zayne, what are you doing right now?

Perhaps he was still working.

》》》》》

[美佳🐾🥕 @30amethyst]

Lately, all I've been talking about is carrots...

I feel a little guilty about that... 😥

[美佳🐾🥕 @30amethyst]

@mountaingodzayn Hahaha😆

It's because I'm using something to recreate the taste of grapefruit juice.😉👍

[美佳🐾🥕 @30amethyst]

@mountaingodzayn

Zeno~ Zeno~
Today’s little treat for you is grapefruit juice 😘💕

[美佳🐾🥕 @30amethyst]

I was organizing my photo albums.
There were so many nostalgic pictures, and before I knew it, the whole day had slipped away.

Every single one was such a precious memory that tears just started falling on their own…

I’m being really sentimental, aren’t I?
Maybe it’s because it’s autumn?

…It’s okay to blame the season, right?

2026.10.18 Mika🐾

[【公式】恋と深空-Love and Deepspace- @LoveDeepspaceJP]

☁️『恋と深空・クラウド版』
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#恋と深空

[美佳🐾🥕 @30amethyst]

@mountaingodzayn Yeah…
You worked so hard today.
Hurry and meet me in my dreams…