She stood by the gate, a small suitcase clutched in her hand, the early morning light casting long shadows beneath her eyes. Aoi looked so different in the soft glow of dawn, distant, older, as if the weight of everything we couldn't say had aged her in an instant.
Mom was inside, probably still asleep. Maybe she knew, or maybe she just didn't want to know. Either way, she wasn't part of this moment.
Aoi's voice broke the silence, quiet and distant. "I'm going to stay with Aunt Mayumi for a while." Her words were a whisper, her eyes fixed firmly on the ground, avoiding mine.
I couldn't speak at first. My throat felt tight, dry, like someone had placed a hand there and refused to let go. I swallowed, trying to steady myself, but the knot only tightened.
"For how long?" I managed to ask, even though I already knew.
She shrugged, her voice low. "As long as it takes."
Those words cut through me sharper than I ever expected. They carried with them the finality of everything we'd never say aloud, the quiet goodbye that hung between us like a weight neither of us could lift.
"I think… we need space," she said, her voice breaking just slightly. "To breathe. To forget, if that's even possible."
I nodded slowly, my chest heavy with something that felt like loss before it had even fully happened. "Yeah… maybe you're right."
But even as the words left my mouth, I could feel the lie hanging in the air. It wasn't right. Nothing about this felt right.
The silence between us stretched on, thick and suffocating. I wanted to reach out, to say something, anything, that could make her stay. But what was left to say? What could I say that would change what had already been said?
I watched her, my heart heavy with the desire to hold onto every little detail. The way her bangs fell softly over her eyes, the way her fingers gripped the handle of her suitcase as if it were the only thing keeping her anchored to this moment, to me. The way she wouldn't meet my gaze, as though she was already gone and I hadn't even noticed.
There were no tears now. Only the remnants of the ones we'd already cried, the unspoken grief that lingered between us.
Finally, she looked up. Her eyes were glassy, and her voice trembled when she spoke.
"If things were different…" she whispered, her words lingering in the air like a fragile, half-formed dream.
I forced a smile, hollow and empty. "Yeah. I know."
A car honked from the street. Her ride was here. The moment had come.
Aoi turned, her body rigid, like she was trying to keep herself from shattering in front of me. She hesitated, then looked back over her shoulder. Her eyes were full of something, something I couldn't quite read.
And then she said it.
"I'll always love you, Riku." The words were quiet, almost lost in the wind, but they burned through me like a confession, like a promise, like a goodbye I wasn't ready for.
And just like that, she turned away.
No grand farewell. No tears or cries for help. Just footsteps crunching on the gravel, and a hollow ache that filled every empty space between us.
The car disappeared down the road, and I stood there, frozen. The world continued on, but I couldn't move. I couldn't breathe.
I just stood there, feeling the weight of everything we couldn't have, the silence of a love that was never meant to be.
And it was too loud. Too overwhelming. Too final.