Once Aiyumi realized she loved him, something inside her changed.
She tried to act normal.
She really did.
But her mind betrayed her.
During lectures, her eyes drifted to the window — and suddenly she wasn't there anymore.
She imagined Ren standing outside, leaning casually, waiting just for her.
Every vibration of her phone made her heart jump.
What if it's him?
What if today is the day he comes back to me?
She replayed old moments again and again —
his childhood laughter, the way he defended her once, the way he knew her silence better than her words.
At night, she lay staring at the ceiling, whispering promises to herself she never meant to keep.
"Maybe tomorrow… he'll talk properly."
"Maybe he didn't mean those words."
"Maybe he loves me too."
She hated herself for hoping —
but hope came uninvited.
Sometimes he was gentle again.
A soft smile.
A caring question.
Those moments lit her heart on fire.
And then, without warning, he'd turn distant — cold words, sharp replies — leaving her confused, shattered, yet still holding on.
Even when his words hurt deeply, she stayed.
Because leaving him felt harder than losing herself.
She began drawing more — filling her sketchbook with imaginary scenes:
Ren reaching for her hand.
Ren apologizing.
Ren choosing her.
Dreams she knew might never come true.
But still… she hoped.
Every day.
Quietly.
Painfully.
Uncontrollably.