Ren stopped showing up anywhere Hina might be. He didn't delete her number or purge her from his social feeds—he just… went quiet. He sealed his heart, burying the raw, churning emotions deep behind a facade of soft smiles and short, non-committal nods. The only person who saw through the meticulous mask was Daiki, who remained perpetually by his side like a loyal, silent sentinel. Daiki didn't need words; he simply adjusted his walking speed to Ren's slower, heavier pace and kept his gaze fixed ahead, a steady, grounding presence.
For Ren, every day felt a little heavier, like moving through water. The school hallways, once bright, now seemed washed out, muted. But instead of letting himself drown in the silence Hina had left, he slowly started breathing again, focusing on the small, manageable acts of existing.
Meanwhile, Hina's life wasn't the sun-drenched fairy tale she'd abandoned everything for. Reiji, once charming and attentive, had turned cold, distant, and sharp. His attention had thinned into neglect. He was uninterested, brushing her off with flimsy excuses and half-hearted replies that felt like sandpaper. The sweet, late-night texts that once kept her awake now came once a day—if that.
Hina gripped the strap of her bag, her knuckles white. It's just a phase. He's busy. He still cares... right? The insistent voice of doubt, however, began to creep into her quiet moments, a small, cold dread that settled in her stomach.
One Saturday, under a sky that was a washed-out, indifferent gray, Hina asked Reiji if they could go shopping—like they used to. She was hoping for some warmth, a desperate sign that their relationship still possessed a flicker of life.
He barely glanced at her. He just gave a quick, dismissive shrug. "Can't. Got plans."
That was all he offered. No explanation, no apology, no softened tone. The chill of his indifference sent a sharp, physical tremor through her. A heavy, sickening pit formed deep in her stomach. Something is absolutely wrong.
She followed him. She hated herself for the desperate, cheap act, but her heart demanded the truth, needed the confirmation to stop the guessing. She found him on the busy, sun-dappled shopping street, the clatter of traffic and distant laughter filling the humid air. And there he was: Reiji, his face bright and unguarded, laughing with another girl. They walked side-by-side like they'd always belonged together, holding hands—a possessive, undeniable clasp.
Hina froze instantly, every muscle in her body locking up. The world around her—the brightly colored billboards, the rushing people—suddenly blurred into an indistinct, deafening haze. Her chest tightened violently, a fierce, breathless clench that stole the air from her lungs. Her legs felt impossibly heavy, anchored to the pavement in the shadow of a bus stop.
She didn't confront him. She didn't let out the strangled cry that caught in her throat.
She just stood in the deep, anonymous shadows—utterly and completely broken.
Her phone trembled in her hand. But instead of calling Reiji to scream, instead of texting her best friend for solace… she thought of Ren.
If only I could go back. If only I hadn't let him go. The regret was a raw, immediate pain, hotter and sharper than the betrayal.
She walked away quietly, the soles of her sneakers silent on the pavement. Later, she confided in a close friend, breaking down in a torrent of hot, stinging tears that stained her friend's shirt. But the next day at school, she plastered on the fragile mask of normalcy. She walked the halls as if she hadn't just watched her heart get trampled.
Hina couldn't ignore the splintering reality anymore.
That image of Reiji—his fingers laced with a stranger's, his open, joyous laugh echoing in her memory—was etched permanently behind her eyelids. She needed answers.
She found him by the lockers, where the smell of old gymnasium socks and chalk dust hung in the air.
"Who is she, Reiji?" Hina asked, her voice firm, yet the slight tremor was audible, betraying her fear. "That girl you were with. Laughing… clinging to her like she meant something to you. You told me she was just a friend. Then why hold her hand like you're dating?"
Reiji's face twisted into an expression of slight, bored annoyance. He gave a half-hearted sigh, brushing her off as if she were an insect. "She is just a friend," he muttered, rubbing his temples, already done with the tedious argument.
"Just a friend?" Hina snapped back, the fear giving way to sharp anger. "Then is it normal to hold hands with your friends? To laugh like you're in love with them? That makes no sense, Reiji."
And then—just like that—he cracked, his patience dissolving.
"Fine. You want the truth?" he said sharply, his voice carrying a sudden, frightening edge. "Yeah, I'm seeing her. And you know what? I've lost interest in you."
The words hit Hina, not like a slap, but like a sudden, absolute vacuum. All the air left the space between them.
Reiji continued, his cruelty careless and final. "At first, sure, I was kinda into you. I asked you out, and you said yes so fast, I thought—'Wow. Hit the jackpot.' But now? I'm just... over it. I was gonna tell you later, but hey—things change. Don't be selfish, Hina. People change with time. They grow out of things. Just let it go. That's life."
Those exact words.
The same cold, dismissive phrases Hina had once used on Ren.
Back when she pushed him away without a proper explanation, believing she had secured a better future. Those same words... now thrown back at her by someone who never truly cared.
Every phrase that fell from Reiji's lips pierced her like sharp, cold arrows. And suddenly, the reality of her own actions came crashing down, an avalanche of guilt and pain. Ren...
The regret flooded in, fierce and unrelenting, so powerful it made her feel physically weak, her knees shaking.
She had become the person she once hated being. Manipulated. Changed by someone toxic. And in doing so, she had cruelly hurt the one person who genuinely cared—Ren.
She wanted to turn back time. She wanted to run to him, to bury her face in his shoulder and apologize until her voice was gone. But after everything she had said—after how she had pushed him away—how could she?
Still, she knew she couldn't stay like this, caught in this pathetic web. So, with all the courage she had left, she looked him in the eye and ended it.
"It's over," she whispered, the two words leaving her lips like a heavy, final sigh. "I'm done."
As she walked away, her mind screamed with one desperate, agonizing thought: If only things could go back to how they were.
But another voice echoed inside her, sharp with painful truth: I don't deserve to go back. Not after what I did to Ren.
The guilt was a heavy physical burden, crushing her shoulders, but the desperate need to make things right kept her moving. She didn't know if Ren would even listen. She didn't know if he would ever forgive her. But she knew one thing for sure: She had to try.
Far away from her world of self-recrimination, Ren had found an unexpected calm in Akari Minazuki.
Akari wasn't loud or demanding. She was soft, intentional, like the quiet light before dawn. She noticed the small things others missed—like how Ren tapped his fingers twice when he was anxious, or how he stared at the sky when he was lost in thought.
They started walking home together under the gentle, deepening evening light. They shared earbuds, listening to playlists, talking about things they couldn't say to anyone else.
They weren't together—not yet. But Ren found himself smiling more around her. His laugh was quieter, less guarded than with Daiki, a genuine sound that started deep in his chest. He hurt a little less.
And for the first time in a long while… he didn't feel completely alone.
But Hina? She was starting to. She had finally made space for the crushing loneliness she had dealt him.
IF ONLY REN KNEW HOW FAR "JUST FRIENDS" WOULD STRETCH THEM APART, AND THE TRUE COST OF HER RETURN.