The rain outside had stopped, but inside Aiyumi's chest it still poured.
Her eyes burned red, her pillow damp — the silence of her room felt louder than her thoughts.
Every corner reminded her of him.
The window where they'd laugh together before college.
The gate they'd wait at each morning, teasing, arguing, smiling — all for nothing now.
Ren's words kept replaying:
"I'm not interested to talk."
Simple. Cold. Final.
But Aiyumi knew those words didn't sound like him.
Something was off — the tone, the look in his eyes, the pause before he spoke.
Still… she didn't ask again. She didn't chase him.
For the first time in her life, she let go.
Or at least tried to.
That night she sat near her sketchbook — the one she hadn't touched since they fought.
Her fingers trembled as she drew.
Line by line, her pain became art.
When she finished, she whispered softly —
"You were the only one who understood me."
And yet, he wasn't there anymore.
💭 In the same night — across the street — Ren sat by his window, staring at the rain.
He didn't cry. But his chest ached in silence.
He knew he'd broken something fragile — and the worst part was… he couldn't even explain why.