Aiyumi rummaged through her bag in a panic.
Her hands trembled.
"Where… where did it go?"
The sketchbook — her secret world, the pages that held her thoughts, her dreams, and the quiet confessions she couldn't say aloud — was gone.
She retraced her steps through the college corridors, glancing at every corner where she had sat, every bench she had touched.
But it wasn't there.
Her chest tightened.
Her heartbeat raced.
The sketchbook wasn't just a book — it was her escape, her comfort… and now it was gone.
She asked her friends, but no one had seen it.
Her eyes welled up with tears, but she swallowed them, refusing to cry in front of everyone.
Meanwhile…
Ren sat quietly in his room at home.
The sketchbook lay on his desk, carefully placed, untouched.
He hadn't meant to keep it.
Not really.
He had picked it up earlier without thinking, and now, he couldn't bring himself to return it.
Every page reminded him of her — her gentle smiles, her stubbornness, the way she poured her heart into her art.
Every line of pencil screamed her name in a way he couldn't resist.
And yet, he knew she didn't know.
He knew she would panic if she realized he had it.
So he stayed silent.
Watching over it. Protecting it.
Even if it meant keeping a part of her world to himself — just for a little while.