Day 45.
She looked at meand took a small step back.
Not confusion.Not hesitation.
But fear.
"Do I… know you?"
Her voice was barely above a whisper.Her eyes flicked toward the door like I was a stranger who'd walked in uninvited.
I didn't speak.I didn't breathe.
Because I knew this day would come.But I had no idea how much it would hurt.
She clutched her notebook to her chest like a shield.
"Why are you here?"
I stepped back, slowly.
No sudden movements.No expectations.
"I'm Ren," I said.
"That name doesn't mean anything to me."
Silence.
Then—
"Please leave."
Day 44.
I didn't visit.
I stood outside her house.Held the letter she once gave me.Reread her words.
"Even if I ask you who you are every day—please keep answering."
So I went back.
Day 43.
She opened the door.
Paused.
"Are you the one who keeps coming?"
I nodded.
She didn't invite me in.
But she didn't close the door either.
I handed her a sticky note.
It said:
"This boy loves you."
She read it.
Looked at me.
"Is that… true?"
"Yes," I said.
"Then… I guess I can let you sit near the window."
We didn't speak.
We just sat.Two strangers.With history only one of us remembered.
But her hand was close to mine.
And for now,that was enough.
That night, I wrote in her notebook.
Even though she wouldn't read it.
"Day 43.She forgot me completely."
"But I'm still here.""And I'll keep being here—until she lets me back in."
Day 42.
She asked me my name again.
I told her.
For the hundredth time.
"Ren."
And she said—
"I think… I used to like that name."
And smiled.
Just a little.