The first morning Rina woke up without checking her phone, she realized how much space waiting had taken up in her life.
No unread messages. No typing bubbles. No Ren.
She sat by the window of her tiny apartment, coffee cooling in her hands, and watched sunlight crawl across the floorboards. It used to feel lonely. Now it just felt quiet.
Her friend Mei barged in sometime around noon — she always did."You're alive," Mei declared, waving a convenience store bag like a victory flag. "That deserves onigiri and caffeine."
Rina gave a faint laugh. "You're making it sound like I almost died."
"You did," Mei said matter-of-factly, tossing her a rice ball. "Socially, romantically, and mentally. Triple kill."
Rina rolled her eyes but smiled anyway. Mei always had a way of stabbing truth into jokes.
As they ate, Mei peeked at Rina's phone. "Still nothing from him?"
Rina shrugged. "He called a few times. I didn't answer."
Mei's expression softened. "You know, most people would want him to explain."
Rina stared at the condensation on her glass. "I wanted that too… once. But I realized I was always the one explaining. Always the one trying to fix something I didn't break."
She looked up, her voice steady now."I think I'm done talking to walls."
Meanwhile, across the city, Ren sat in a café that smelled too much like memory.
The same café where he first met Rina — her messy ponytail, her bright smile, that way she'd laugh at her own jokes before anyone else could.Now, every time the doorbell chimed, he looked up, stupidly hoping.
"Another Americano?" the waiter asked.
He blinked down at his untouched cup. "Uh… yeah. Sure."
Ren had replayed it all too many times — the way she'd looked at him that night, the way her voice didn't shake when she said enough.He used to think love was about protecting someone. Now he wondered if he'd spent all his time protecting the wrong person.
Hana had apologized. Tearfully. Genuinely.
"I just wanted things to go back to how they were before she came," she'd confessed.And he had realized — before Rina came, he'd never really grown up.
Days turned to weeks.
Rina started writing again — small freelance projects, short essays. Words that didn't demand understanding.She even went back to her university club once in a while, where new members whispered, "Isn't that the girl who dated Ren?"
The old Rina might've flinched. The new Rina just smiled.
During a late meeting, Mei nudged her phone toward her."He's still watching your stories, you know."
Rina blinked. "Huh?"
"Ren. Every single one."
Rina hesitated, scrolling. Sure enough — his name sat right there in the viewers list. Always there. Never speaking.
Mei sighed. "You're really not gonna unblock him?"
"No," Rina said simply. "If he has something to say, he can find another way."
One evening, she took a walk by the riverside — their old spot. The lamps shimmered against the water like faint promises that refused to drown.She paused when she saw a familiar silhouette leaning on the railing.
Ren.
He turned at the sound of her steps, eyes widening — hopeful, then cautious.Neither spoke at first. The silence stretched between them like glass — fragile, reflective, full of things neither dared to touch.
Finally, he said quietly, "You still come here."
Rina smiled faintly. "The river was here before you, you know."
He huffed a soft laugh. "Right."
A beat passed."I wanted to say…" He swallowed hard. "You were right. About everything. Hana told me the truth."
"I know," Rina said.
"You know?"
"Hana texted me. A long time ago. Apologized." Her voice was gentle, not bitter. "She said you were hurting, and she'd fix it herself. I told her not to."
"Why?"
"Because some things you need to realize on your own."
The wind shifted. Somewhere, a streetlights flickered.Ren exhaled, looking at her — really looking, like he was memorizing her all over again.
"Can we—start over?"
Rina's eyes softened. "Ren… you're saying that because you regret losing me. Not because you're ready to find me again."
He froze.
She smiled sadly. "We can't go back to who we were. I'm not waiting anymore. And you—you're still learning to listen."
The ache in her chest was quiet, almost peaceful.She turned to leave, the river reflecting her shadow beside his. For a heartbeat, they looked like they still belonged — two silhouettes side by side, just out of reach.
Ren stood there long after she disappeared into the night.
For the first time, he didn't chase.He just whispered, to no one and to her all at once:
"I hear you now."