The rain didn't stop for hours that evening.
By the time the campus emptied, the corridors were washed clean, the benches still wet.
Aiyumi had already gone home — quietly, without waiting for anyone.
She left behind only one thing — her sketchbook.
The same one she always carried since childhood.
It slipped from her bag when she ran out crying.
Later that evening, Ren was passing by the art room. He noticed the light flickering near the bench and a damp book lying there.
He picked it up, brushing off the rainwater from the cover.
Her name.
Written in neat handwriting — "Aiyumi."
Ren froze.
He hesitated before opening it, but his fingers moved on their own.
Page after page — her doodles, the little moments they had shared, their friendship captured in pencil lines.
Him teasing her.
Her angry face.
Their rain sketches.
And then… he reached the last page.
It wasn't a drawing. Just a few words written softly:
"Even if you've changed, I'll never forget the you who once stayed by my side."
A drop of water blurred the ink.
He couldn't tell if it was from the rain — or her tears.
Ren closed the sketchbook slowly, his jaw tightening.
He looked out the window — the same direction she had walked home hours ago.
For a second, his cold mask cracked.
The pain he had buried deep beneath his calm expression finally flickered in his eyes.
"You still don't understand, do you…?" he whispered to himself.
"I was only cold because I didn't know how to stop caring."
He slipped the sketchbook into his bag.
And walked away in silence — the rain following him like an unfinished story.