Ren stopped coming.
Not all at once. Not dramatically.
He just… wasn't there anymore.
The seat beside Yuna stayed empty. The group chat stayed silent. Lunch felt longer than it should.
"He's sick," Mio said on the first day.
"He's busy," she said on the second.
By the third day, nobody said anything.
Yuna pretended she didn't notice.
She laughed when she was supposed to. She answered questions. She even smiled.
But it never reached her eyes.
I caught her staring at Ren's desk more than once, like she was waiting for it to apologize and bring him back.
After school, I found Ren by the old basketball court.
Alone.
The sun was low, stretching shadows across the cracked ground.
"You're avoiding us," I said.
He didn't look up. "I know."
"You don't have to disappear."
"I kind of do," he replied.
He finally met my eyes.
"I spent years building my world around someone who was already leaving," he said quietly. "I don't know who I am without that."
I didn't have an answer.
Sometimes understanding doesn't fix anything.
"Do you hate her?" I asked.
He shook his head immediately. "No. That's the problem."
His voice cracked.
"If I hated her, this would be easier."
That evening, Yuna texted me.
Yuna: Have you seen Ren?
I stared at the screen.
Then typed:
Me: He's okay. He just needs time.
Three dots appeared.
Disappeared.
Appeared again.
Yuna: I don't have much of that.
I closed my eyes.
The next day, Mio snapped.
"He can't just vanish," she said, pacing the classroom. "That's not fair."
"None of this is fair," Yuna replied softly.
Mio stopped.
Looked at her.
"You're leaving," Mio said. "Aren't you?"
The room went quiet.
Yuna nodded once.
Mio's hands clenched.
"Then don't you dare act like the one hurting the most," she said.
The words were sharp.
And immediately regretted.
Yuna's face crumpled.
"I never wanted this," she whispered.
Mio turned away.
"I know," she said. "That's why it hurts."
That night, the group chat lit up for the first time in days.
Ren: I'm sorry.
No explanation.
No promises.
Just two words that carried too much weight.
Yuna stared at the message for a long time.
Then replied:
Yuna: Me too.
Some distances aren't measured in steps.
They're measured in silence.
And ours was growing.