The breeze that afternoon carried a strange, unnerving tension—like the heavy air before a thunderstorm, the world had paused for a crucial breath.
Ren stood slightly angled between Hina and Akari, his heart steady but his eyes cautious and watchful, as he made the introduction. The interaction was happening just outside the school entrance, where the hot pavement still radiated heat from the day.
"This is Akari Minazuki," he said, nodding gently toward the soft-spoken girl beside him. "She's one of my close friends—like Daiki."
Akari offered a polite, quiet nod, her expression composed and open.
Hina, standing across the small space, felt the muscles in her cheeks strain as she forced a bright, practiced smile. "It's nice to meet you," she said with deliberate, manufactured warmth. "I'm looking forward to our friendship." Why is she so calm? Why does she look at him like that?
"Likewise," Akari replied, her voice calm, her smile sincere—but undeniably observant. Her gaze lingered on Hina for a moment too long.
Daiki stood a little farther back, arms crossed over his chest, his presence a knot of solid resistance. His expression was unreadable, but his thoughts spun in loops, loud and angry. Why now? Why did she have to come back now?
He hadn't forgotten the brutal clarity of Hina ghosting Ren the moment Reiji entered the picture. He remembered the days Ren barely spoke, the way he stared at his phone with eyes full of something never voiced—heartbreak, disappointment, and a quiet, devastating acceptance.
And now here she was, smiling, acting as if the last six months were a bad dream they all collectively forgot. Daiki bit his tongue until he tasted a faint, metallic tang.
Ren had changed since then—stronger, quieter, maybe a little harder to reach, like a stone polished smooth by the current. But he was healing. Akari's presence was a balm, a softening weight on his shoulders. She was like a lighthouse in the fog—steady and quiet, never demanding, just undeniably there.
To Daiki, this wasn't some harmless reunion. It felt like a storm gathering back together when the sky had just started to clear.
Still, the four of them—Ren, Akari, Hina, and Daiki—began spending more time together. Group walks, shared lunches in the noisy cafeteria, casual conversations that stretched across the afternoon.
They laughed like typical friends.
But under the surface, the cracks were forming, starting with Hina.
Hina noticed the way Ren looked at Akari—that subtle ease, the lack of tension, the quiet affection that settled around them like a warm blanket. It wasn't the same energy he had shared with her. With Hina, he used to be nervous, often stumbling over his own thoughtful words. But with Akari, he was just himself. Effortlessly.
And that realization was a sharp, twisting pain deep inside her gut. He never looked at me with that much peace.
Three awkward days passed.
Then, one afternoon, as the setting sun cast long, thin shadows across the quad, Daiki approached Hina while they were packing up their desks.
"I need to talk to you. Alone." His voice was low, absolute, demanding immediate attention.
They walked behind the school courtyard—a place once filled with shared laughter, now heavy with an oppressive, suffocating silence. The air between them felt sharp, charged with static.
"I'll be blunt," Daiki said, his voice firm and unwavering, planting his feet on the cracked concrete. "You should stop getting close to Ren like before."
Hina's eyes widened instantly, the shock visibly making her recoil. "Why?"
"Because what you did," he said, his tone never wavering, his eyes hard, "leaving him when he needed you most—it broke him. He may not say it out loud, but I was there. I saw it. I picked up the pieces you didn't even realize you shattered."
Hina's breath caught in a sharp, dry sob. Her throat constricted. "I didn't mean to—"
"I'm not finished," Daiki cut in, his voice cutting like glass. "You were with Reiji. That was your choice. But now that it's over, you show up again—right when Ren's finally moving on. When he's finally smiling again... with someone who stayed when you didn't."
He paused, letting the finality of the accusation hang in the still air.
"This isn't just about you two anymore. It's about what's fair. And I'm telling you this not because I hate you—but because I care about him. Ren deserves someone who won't leave when things get confusing."
Hina looked down, her shoulders trembling uncontrollably. The truth was an inescapable weight. "I'm… sorry," she whispered, the apology sounding hollow and inadequate even to her own ears. "For everything I did to him. And to you."
There was a long, unforgiving pause.
"I'll step back," she added, her voice barely a fraction above a whisper, heavy with reluctant surrender. "If that's what's right."
Daiki didn't reply. He just nodded once, a gesture devoid of warmth, then turned sharply and walked away, the sound of his steps receding quickly on the gravel.
Hina stayed frozen for a moment, the rough brick of the school wall digging into her back. She finally walked home alone, every step feeling heavier than the last, burdened by the weight of Daiki's unforgiving words.
That night, curled up in her bed, the walls of her room finally closed in.
She pressed her face into her pillow, muffling the harsh, ragged sobs—guilt crashing into her like relentless waves, making her whole body shake.
For the first time, she truly understood what she had lost.
Not just Ren, the object of her regret.
But the version of herself that could've been better—the true, loyal friend—if only she had seen it sooner.
NEW SHADOWS, OLD SCARS. THE COST OF A TRUTH SPOKEN ALOUD. TWO SMILES MET THAT DAY, BUT ONLY ONE OF THEM WAS REAL.