The next few days stretched thin, like a dream refusing to end yet too fragile to hold. Ren found himself back at the old house more often than he'd admit. The cracked window, the dripping ceiling, even the uneven floorboards — everything in that place began to feel like a diary written without ink.
He didn't always see her there. Sometimes, he sat alone, staring at the doorway, waiting for the sound of her heels or the soft rustle of her coat. Sometimes he brought his notebook, pretending to write something important, but the pages remained blank.
Then one day, the rain came again.
It was heavy — the kind that drowned out the sound of everything else. And through that watery curtain, she arrived, stepping inside just as before, shaking the droplets from her hair.
"You again?" she said, smiling faintly. "You're starting to make me think you live here."
"Maybe I do," Ren replied softly. "Feels more like home than anywhere else."
Miyako laughed — not mockingly, but with a tired kind of warmth. She took off her coat and hung it on a rusty nail, sitting on the same broken chair she had before.
"You shouldn't get used to this place," she said. "It's not meant for anyone to stay."
"I could say the same about a lot of things," he said, watching the rain slide down the glass. "Like love."
She didn't respond right away. Her eyes lingered on the rain, as if it reminded her of something — or someone — she had left behind.
"You think too much for someone your age," she finally said.
He turned to her, searching for her expression. "And you stopped thinking too much for yours?"
She smiled at that, though her eyes didn't match it. "Maybe. Or maybe I just got tired of pretending that thinking changes anything."
There was silence again. The kind that sits heavy but not unkind. Ren could hear his heart in it — awkward, young, restless.
"I used to think life was supposed to be beautiful," he said after a while. "Like all those stories. Then I realized… it's just people hurting each other slowly, trying to call it love."
Miyako's lips parted slightly, but no words came.
"You're too young to be that cynical," she said quietly.
"And you're too old to be that sad," he replied.
The rain softened, like a breath held too long finally released.
Miyako stood and walked toward him. She reached out — hesitantly — and brushed a wet strand of hair from his forehead. Her fingers lingered there for a heartbeat, and then withdrew.
"You shouldn't wait for me here anymore, Ren," she said.
He looked up, startled. "Why?"
"Because you'll start mistaking kindness for love," she said softly. "And I… I don't want to be that mistake for you."
Then she picked up her coat and walked out into the fading rain.
Ren stood frozen, watching the door swing slowly shut behind her. The world outside had turned gray, quiet, and strangely hollow.
For the first time, he didn't chase after her.
He just sat there — listening to the echo of her footsteps fade into the storm.
And in that silence, he felt something inside him shift — the faint, painful birth of understanding.