The next morning, Aiyumi couldn't take it anymore.
The silence. The unanswered questions. The ache that sat heavy in her chest.
She grabbed her bag and ran — through the narrow lanes, past the familiar park, straight to Ren's house.
The gate was half-open. His bike was there.
He was home.
Her heart pounded as she stepped closer.
Ren was sitting on the porch, earphones in, eyes distant — the same boy she'd grown up with, yet somehow, a stranger now.
"Ren…" her voice trembled.
He looked up.
No smile. No warmth. Just tired eyes.
"What are you doing here?"
"I— I need to talk," she said softly. "About that day."
He sighed, pulling out his earphones. "There's nothing to talk about, Aiyumi."
"Yes, there is!" she snapped — the pain breaking through her calm voice. "You disappeared. You stopped talking. You just… left."
Ren's jaw tightened. "Because you made it clear I wasn't needed anymore."
Her breath caught.
"I never said that," she whispered.
"You didn't have to."
He stood up, turning away.
"I get it now. You've got your new life. Your new friends. You don't need me tagging along."
"That's not true!" she said, tears rising. "You were— you are— my best friend!"
He turned back to her — and for the first time, she saw it.
The pain behind his anger. The exhaustion in his voice.
"Best friend?" he muttered bitterly. "Then why did you say I never understood you?"
Aiyumi froze.
The memory hit her — the fight, her own words said out of frustration.
You'll never understand me, Ren.
She had said it.
She hadn't meant it.
But he'd believed it.
Now, looking at him, she realized it wasn't just a fight.
It was hurt — left to grow in silence.
Ren looked away, voice flat.
"I'm not interested in talking anymore, Aiyumi. Just… leave it."
The words cut deeper than she expected.
Aiyumi stood there, quiet, the wind cold against her skin.
She wanted to say more — to fix everything — but the look in his eyes told her it was too late for now.
When she finally walked away, the world around her felt heavy again.
But deep inside… she knew something wasn't over yet.
Because the message last night — and the strange word "Remember" — still waited for answers.