Yuna came back on a Tuesday.
Not with an apology. Not with excuses. Just her usual smile—slightly crooked, like she hoped it would be enough.
"You guys look serious," she said, stepping closer to the river steps. "Did I miss something?"
Ren stood up immediately. "When?"
The word cut through the air.
Yuna froze.
Mio inhaled sharply. I closed my notebook before I realized it was open.
"When are you leaving?" Ren repeated, quieter this time.
Yuna looked away. "End of summer."
That was worse than soon.
The river moved slowly behind us. Everything else felt stuck.
"So this is it," Ren said. "We're just pretending everything's normal until then?"
"I wanted one last good summer," Yuna replied. "Is that so wrong?"
"No," Mio said quickly. "It's just—hard."
Yuna nodded. "I know."
Her eyes flicked toward me. "You've been quiet, Aoi."
I swallowed. "I didn't want to write this part."
She smiled faintly. "Figures."
Later, Ren pulled Yuna aside.
They stood a few steps away, close enough for us to see, far enough that we couldn't hear. Their voices were low. Tense. Ren's hands clenched and unclenched.
Mio hugged her arms. "This feels like a countdown."
"It is," I said.
She looked at me. "How many days do you think we have left?"
I didn't answer. I didn't want to turn summer into numbers.
When Ren came back, his eyes were red.
"She's leaving in twenty-seven days," he said.
Twenty-seven.
Not enough. Never enough.
That night, I wrote:
The scariest part of goodbyes isn't the leaving.
It's knowing exactly when it will happen.
I closed the notebook.
Summer hadn't ended yet.
But now, it had a deadline.