It rained the next day.
Not the dramatic kind that flooded streets or trapped people indoors, but a soft, persistent rain that blurred the world and slowed everything down. Summer rain always felt strange—too gentle for a season that burned so brightly.
We didn't meet at the beach.
Instead, we gathered at the small bus stop near the river, sheltering under its narrow roof. The air smelled like wet pavement and leaves.
Ren was unusually quiet.
Yuna stood at the far edge of the shelter, staring out at the rain like it had personally offended her.
Mio sat beside me, knees drawn up, watching them with a worried expression.
"You're going to catch a cold standing there," Ren said finally.
Yuna didn't turn around. "I'm fine."
"That's what you always say."
She exhaled sharply. "Can you not do this today?"
Ren stiffened. "Do what?"
"Act like you're entitled to answers."
The rain seemed to get louder.
Mio shifted uncomfortably. I looked down at my hands, pretending not to hear, even though every word landed heavy in my chest.
Ren ran a hand through his hair. "I just want to understand."
"There's nothing to understand," Yuna replied.
That was a lie. We all felt it.
Later, Mio suggested we walk along the river anyway. "The rain might stop," she said, hopeful.
It didn't.
But we walked regardless, shoes splashing softly, umbrellas bumping occasionally. The river was darker today, moving faster than usual.
Mio slowed her steps until we were behind the others.
"You don't have to write everything down," she said quietly.
I glanced at her. "How did you—"
"You look like you're thinking too hard," she smiled. "That's your tell."
I laughed softly. "I don't know how to stop."
She hesitated, then said, "Maybe some things are meant to be felt first."
Her words stayed with me.
Up ahead, Yuna stopped suddenly.
"I'm going home," she said without turning around.
Ren blinked. "Now?"
"Yes. Alone."
He took a step toward her. "Yuna—"
She spun around. "Stop trying to save me! I didn't ask for that."
The silence afterward was sharp, cutting.
Yuna's eyes flickered—anger, fear, something close to regret.
"I'm sorry," she said, quieter now. "I just… can't do this today."
Then she walked away, rain swallowing her figure almost immediately.
Ren stood there, unmoving.
Mio took a hesitant step forward. "Ren…"
He shook his head. "It's fine."
But his voice didn't sound fine.
I watched him stare at the spot where Yuna had disappeared, like he expected her to come back if he waited long enough.
She didn't.
That night, the rain finally stopped.
I opened my notebook but didn't write right away. Mio's words echoed in my head.
Some things are meant to be felt first.
Still, I wrote one line.
Silence can hurt more than words.
I closed the book, unsure of what tomorrow would bring.
But one thing was clear.
This summer was starting to fracture.