Days kept passing, but the distance between them only grew heavier.
No fights.
No words.
Just silence — sharp enough to cut.
At first, Aiyumi kept thinking he changed.
But one quiet evening, while she sat alone on the college terrace — everything came crashing down.
She replayed every moment in her head — the argument, the harsh words, the way she walked away first.
And suddenly, it hit her.
"It wasn't him… it was me."
Her voice broke into the cold air.
She had misunderstood everything.
She blamed him for things he never did.
He stayed quiet… because she had hurt him more than she realized.
Tears rolled down her cheeks, falling onto the pages of her sketchbook.
She turned to the last page — the one where she had once drawn him and her as kids, holding hands under the same sky.
Now that sky looked empty.
Downstairs, she could see Ren walking out of class with his friends.
He looked normal, calm, serious — like always.
But she knew… behind that silence, he was hurting too.
She wanted to run to him. To say "I'm sorry."
But something inside stopped her.
Maybe fear.
Maybe guilt.
She whispered into the wind,
"Ren… I didn't mean to lose you."
But the wind only carried her words away.
And from far away — Ren paused for a moment, as if he heard something.
Then he turned his face away.
Because sometimes, love isn't lost by time —
It's lost by silence.