Chapter 42: When Two Strangers Remember

The rain started the next morning.

Ren didn’t sleep much. Half the night, he kept replaying that glimpse of the girl with the red ribbon. Her silhouette. Her quiet presence. The way something in his chest tightened like a memory struggling to break free.

He didn’t know her.

He shouldn’t know her.

But he couldn’t shake the feeling that she mattered.

By late afternoon, he drifted to the café again without thinking. Haru spotted him through the window and waved like always.

“Ren! You’re early today. Did you finally quit your job?” Haru joked.

“No,” Ren said, walking in.

“Shame. I was ready to celebrate.”

Mina placed a cup of coffee in front of him before he even sat. “Rough night?”

Ren nodded.

Haru and Mina exchanged a tiny worried look. They didn’t press him. That was something he appreciated about them.

The café door chimed.

A soft, gentle sound.

Ren didn’t look up at first.

Until he felt it—

That same tightening in his chest.

Like a string being pulled.

He turned.

A girl stood in the doorway, brushing raindrops off her sleeves. Her hair was tied to the side. The red ribbon rested lightly against it, damp from the rain but still bright.

Ren’s breath stopped.

Yuki took one step inside.

Then another.

She lifted her head.

Their eyes met.

Time didn’t slow down.

It didn’t freeze.

It didn’t shatter.

It simply stopped existing.

Her eyes widened just a little.

A soft inhale escaped her lips.

Her fingers trembled where they clutched her bag.

Ren didn’t blink.

A tear slipped down his cheek before he realized he was crying.

Not one.

Not two.

They fell a little too easily.

He didn’t understand why.

He didn’t know her name.

He didn’t know her story.

But seeing her felt like coming home to a place he forgot existed.

Yuki’s hand shot to her mouth. Her eyes filled with tears almost instantly, as if his reaction unleashed something locked deep inside her.

She tried to hold them in.

She failed.

A shaky tear slipped down her cheek.

Then another.

Soon she was crying, too—quietly, softly, almost like she didn’t know why she was crying either.

Haru whispered, “…who’s that?”

Mina whispered back, “…I don’t know.”

Neither of them moved.

Ren stood slowly.

Yuki stared at him, her breath trembling, lips quivering as if trying to speak—trying to find something familiar in the face of a stranger.

He took one step toward her.

She took one step back.

Another tear fell.

Another.

Her voice cracked.

“I—I’m sorry—”

She turned.

And she ran.

Straight out of the café, out into the rain, leaving only the echo of the door chime behind her.

Ren called out, “Wait—!”

But she was already gone.

The same ache returned to his chest—stronger this time, crushing almost. Some memory, some forgotten emotion, breaking against him like a wave crashing into a cliff.

Haru placed a hand on his shoulder. “Ren… do you know her?”

Ren wiped his tears with a confused, helpless laugh.

“I don’t,” he whispered.

But the pain in his chest told another story.

He didn’t know her.

But he had loved her once.

Of that, he was certain.