The sky was already fading when we met the next day.
Not sunset yet—just that fragile blue that feels like it might crack if you touch it.
Yuna arrived late.
Ren noticed first. He always did.
"She's never late," he said.
"She is today," Mio replied, trying to sound casual.
I didn't say anything. I was watching the path.
Yuna appeared a minute later, breathless, hair loose, eyes too bright.
"Sorry," she said quickly. "I was—"
She stopped.
None of us asked why.
Sometimes silence is kinder than questions.
We sat closer than usual by the river. Our shoulders brushed. Nobody moved away.
Ren kept glancing at Yuna, like he was afraid she might flicker out if he looked too long. She pretended not to notice, staring at the water as if it held answers.
Mio leaned toward me. "Do you ever feel like time is watching us?"
"Yes," I said. "Like it's waiting for us to mess up."
She smiled. "Good. I thought I was losing my mind."
Later, Ren stood abruptly. "I'm getting drinks."
"I'll come," Yuna said.
He froze, then nodded.
They walked off together, their footsteps uneven, unsynchronized—like two people pretending they weren't walking toward something inevitable.
That left just Mio and me.
"I hate this part," she said.
"What part?"
"The almosts," she answered. "The things that stay in your throat."
I looked at her. Really looked.
Her hands were trembling.
"Mio," I said softly.
She turned to me. "If this summer ends badly… do you think it still counts as beautiful?"
I thought of Yuna's smile. Ren's clenched fists. The way the days were shrinking.
"Yes," I said. "Maybe especially then."
She exhaled, like she'd been holding that breath for weeks.
For a moment, I thought she might lean closer.
She didn't.
When Ren and Yuna returned, something had changed.
Not loud. Not obvious.
But Ren wasn't joking at all now.
And Yuna—Yuna kept touching her wrist, like she was counting something only she could feel.
As we left, Yuna walked beside me.
"Do you ever wish you could stop time?" she asked.
"No," I replied. "I wish I could slow it down."
She smiled, sad and grateful. "Me too."
At the crossroads, she paused.
"Tomorrow," she said. "Let's do something different."
Ren blinked. "Like what?"
"I don't know," she replied. "Something worth remembering."
She waved and walked away before anyone could answer.
That night, I wrote again.
Some moments are heavy not because they hurt—
but because they're about to.
I closed the notebook.
Tomorrow was coming.
And whatever Yuna meant by different—
I knew it would change everything.