Late night, in her room.
Aiyumi's father notices she's been quiet for days — her sketches are untouched, and her smile is missing.
He knocks softly and says:
"Even if the world misunderstands you, you don't have to hide your heart from me, Aiyumi."
She doesn't tell him everything, but he simply sits beside her — silent comfort.
Her mother enters, slightly strict:
"You can't keep skipping meals, Aiyumi. Focus on your studies."
But her father quietly defends her:
"Let her breathe for a day, she's human too."
💭 This scene shows: Her father's emotional support + her mother's practical strictness.
Ren's home, breakfast table.
His mom teases him:
"You used to talk about Aiyumi every morning. What happened now?"
Ren smirks, trying to hide the pain:
"We're just… busy with college."
His dad laughs:
"Busy, huh? You're staring at your phone every night for someone you're not 'busy' with."
💭 This scene lightens the tone, shows his family is chill and loving — but also subtly reveals that Ren still misses her.
Later, during a festival, Aiyumi's father comes to drop her — Ren's parents are there too.
They meet, exchange smiles, talk about how their kids "used to be so close."
Ren overhears that, looks away with a small smile.
Aiyumi notices… but doesn't say anything.
💭 This moment ties both families emotionally and sets up for a softer reunion soon.
The late evening sun poured through Aiyumi's window, painting her room in soft orange light.
Her sketchbook lay open — a half-finished drawing of the rain scene she could never forget.
She smiled faintly, lost in her colors — until the door burst open.
"Aiyumi!"
Her mother's voice was sharp, slicing through the peace.
Aiyumi jumped. Her brush slipped, leaving a streak of blue across the paper.
"How many times should I tell you? Enough of this art!" her mother yelled, stepping inside.
"Exams are coming and you're sitting here like some daydreaming child!"
Before Aiyumi could reply, her father entered — but his face wasn't calm this time.
His voice was just as cold.
> "Your mother is right. You think this will take you anywhere? Drawing won't feed you, Aiyumi. You need to grow up."
She looked at both of them — heart sinking.
"But… this is what I love. I want to be an artist, I—"
Her father cut her off, his tone harsh.
"You want too many things. Life doesn't work on wants. It works on what's right."
Her mother crossed her arms, shaking her head.
"You're wasting your potential. All those marks, all those years of study — for this?"
Aiyumi's eyes welled up.
"It's not a waste if it makes me happy."
But they didn't understand.
Her father's voice grew colder.
"Happiness doesn't pay bills."
Those words broke her.
She stood still, staring at the floor as they walked out, leaving the room heavy with silence.
Her fingers trembled.
She looked at the brush in her hand — her colors suddenly felt meaningless.
The door closed softly behind them.
And when she was finally alone, Aiyumi whispered, almost too quietly to hear,
"Maybe… no one ever saw what I could be."
Her tears fell onto the paper, blurring the lines she had drawn so carefully —
colors running together, just like her dreams.