Mio didn't plan to say anything.
She told herself that every morning.
Just smile. Just survive. Just let the days pass.
But the thing about holding everything in is that it leaks out anyway.
It happened after school.
Yuna had gone home early to finish packing. I stayed back to help a teacher. That left Mio and Ren walking together—something that hadn't happened in a long time.
The sky was overcast, clouds thick and low, like they were pressing down on the town.
"You've been quiet," Ren said.
Mio laughed lightly. "Funny. I was about to say the same thing about you."
He didn't argue.
They stopped near the park.
Kids were playing, shouting, running in careless circles. Mio watched them for a long time.
"Ren," she said suddenly.
He turned. "Yeah?"
Her hands clenched at her sides. "If someone likes you… but knows they shouldn't… what are they supposed to do?"
Ren frowned. "That's… specific."
She swallowed. "Answer anyway."
He hesitated.
"I think," he said slowly, "they should be honest. Even if it hurts. Especially then."
Mio laughed again—but this time it broke halfway.
"Of course you'd say that."
Ren's eyes widened. "Mio?"
She looked at him then. Really looked.
"I like you," she said. "I've liked you for a long time."
The words fell between them, fragile and unstoppable.
Ren froze.
"Mio—"
"I know," she interrupted quickly. "I know about Yuna. I know the timing is awful. I'm not asking for anything."
Her voice shook. "I just couldn't keep pretending anymore."
Silence stretched.
The clouds rumbled overhead.
Ren exhaled slowly.
"I don't know what to say," he admitted. "I care about you. I always have."
She smiled sadly. "But not like that."
He didn't deny it.
That was answer enough.
"I'm sorry," he said.
"I know," Mio replied. "I just needed you to hear it."
She turned away before he could say more.
That evening, Mio didn't reply to the group chat.
Yuna noticed.
Yuna: Is Mio okay?
No one answered.
That night, Mio cried quietly into her pillow—not because she'd been rejected, but because she'd finally told the truth.
And once spoken, there was no putting it back.
The summer wasn't just ending.
It was unraveling—thread by thread.