As summer gave way to autumn, Ren's letters to Aiko grew less frequent, each one feeling like a step further into the unknown. He felt her responses becoming shorter, her words warm but more distant, as if she were already living in a world that he couldn't reach. Despite the reassurances from his friends, Ren struggled to make peace with the silence growing between them.
One overcast afternoon, Ren found himself at the cherry blossom park, the once vibrant trees now bare, their branches stark against the gray sky. He recalled the days they'd spent here—laughing, making promises under blossoms that seemed to carry their dreams on the breeze. Now, without Aiko, the park felt hauntingly empty, like a chapter closed too soon.
In a moment of longing, he reached for his phone, scrolling through their old photos. Each image carried memories like ghosts—Aiko's laughter, her smile, her hand in his. But as he lingered on these moments, he felt an ache, as though holding onto her memory would only make it harder to move forward.
Just then, Sora appeared, his face thoughtful as he approached. "Ren, you've got to let her go," he said, his tone gentle but firm.
Ren sighed, pocketing his phone. "I don't know how, Sora. I keep waiting for things to feel right again, but they never do."
"That's because you're holding onto a shadow," Sora replied. "Aiko's living her life now, and you deserve to live yours, too."
The words hit Ren like a wave of clarity, and though the thought of letting go filled him with sorrow, he realized Sora was right. Aiko's memory would always be part of him, but he couldn't keep living in the past.