The weekend drifted by slowly, like clouds over a quiet sky. Leo had planned to rest, maybe catch up on homework, but his thoughts kept drifting back to the picnic. To Rin's quiet laugh. To Yuki's half-lingering glances. To Hana's easy confidence. And somewhere in that mix—Aira.
They hadn't spoken much since returning from the camp. Aira had kept her distance, burying herself in art club activities. But today, Leo's phone buzzed with a notification from the school app:
> "Art Club: Mid-Semester Showcase. Open gallery preview this week only."
He paused, thumb hovering.
Then, curiosity won.
---
The art room was quiet when he arrived. Not the usual classroom silence, but a sacred, creative hush. The kind of quiet that felt intentional—like breathing before a first brushstroke.
Paintings lined the walls. Abstract pieces. Portraits. Vivid landscapes. One caught Leo's attention immediately.
A girl, standing alone beneath a twisted tree. Her face was turned away, her shadow long and sharp, stretching across the canvas like regret. Above her, the sky cracked with violent streaks of pink and blue.
He stepped closer. The title card beneath it read:
> "Unsent." — Aira Kanzaki
Leo froze.
Footsteps echoed behind him.
"Didn't expect you to come."
He turned. Aira stood by the doorway, arms crossed over her paint-stained hoodie, eyes unreadable.
"This is… incredible," Leo said honestly. "It feels… heavy."
Aira shrugged, but her voice was softer than usual. "It's a self-portrait. Sort of."
Leo looked back at the painting. "Why 'Unsent'?"
"Because I wrote something," she said. "A letter. After the camp. But I never gave it to you."
Silence settled between them.
"I was going to say sorry," she continued, looking down. "For avoiding you. For being... cold. But then I saw you and Yuki on the dock."
Leo opened his mouth to explain—he didn't know what, exactly—but Aira raised a hand.
"You don't have to explain," she said. "I get it. You're happy now. And that's... okay."
She walked past him and gently adjusted the frame on another piece. "I'm not here to cause drama. I just wanted you to see this. One last thing from me."
Leo watched her fingers trace the frame. Her shoulders were tense, but her voice remained steady.
"I used to draw in silence," she said. "Now I draw to let things out. And you—you were one of the loudest things inside my head for a long time."
He didn't know what to say.
So she said it for him.
"I'm not trying to get between you and Yuki. I just wanted you to know... you mattered."
Leo felt a tightness in his chest.
"You still do," he said quietly.
She smiled. Just once.
"Thanks. But this story—our story—doesn't need more chapters."
She turned and walked toward the exit. Then, pausing at the door, she looked back.
"But I'm glad we had a few pages."
And with that, Aira slipped out of the art room, leaving only the echo of colors behind her.
---
That night, Leo lay in bed, staring at the ceiling.
He thought about Aira. Her painting. Her restraint. Her strength.
He thought about Yuki, and how she'd smiled under the moonlight.
He thought about Rin and Hana, and all the tangled emotions threading between them.
And he wondered—no, he knew—this story was far from over.
But for now, another chapter had just closed.