Chapter 12 – Unspoken Walls

The echo of Hina's confession still haunted the halls of the school, lingering like a storm that had passed but left everything shattered in its wake. But it wasn't just the school that felt the weight of her words.

Back home, Renji's mother sat stiff on the couch, her hands tightly clenched in her lap. Her face was pale, lips slightly parted, as if trying to breathe through the invisible guilt crushing her chest. His sister stood by the window, arms crossed tightly over her stomach, eyes unfocused.

Hina's voice still rang in their ears:"I lied… Renji didn't do anything. He never hurt me. I was scared. I didn't want to lose him… but I lost him anyway."

And the silence that followed was heavier than anything.

"…He really hates us now, doesn't he?" Renji's mother finally whispered. Her voice trembled—more than it had during the funeral of her husband years ago.

His sister didn't respond. Her throat clenched too tight. But the answer was clear.

Yes. He did.

Or at least… it felt like he had every right to.

The Next Afternoon – Renji's House

A knock at the door.

Renji sat up in his room, headphones loosely hanging around his neck. He wasn't expecting anyone. No one ever visited him—except her.

He pulled his headphones off and stood slowly, but just as he reached the top of the stairs, he heard the door open.

"…Touka-san?" His mother's voice held quiet shock. "You're… from the student council, aren't you?"

"Yes," Touka replied calmly, standing tall in the doorway. "Is Renji here?"

"He's… upstairs," his mother murmured, instinctively glancing up the stairs. "He's been… avoiding us."

Renji didn't wait. He didn't let Touka say another word.

He stormed down the stairs, grabbed her hand like it was the only thing keeping him grounded, and marched back up without a word. The air between him and his mother felt like an electric wall—unforgiving and cold.

As he passed his mother, he didn't even glance her way. But the way his grip tightened around Touka's hand said everything:She's not part of this. You aren't part of this.

His mom stood frozen at the bottom of the stairs, her chest tight with guilt. Her son had become a stranger who wouldn't even look at her.

And it hurt more than she could bear.

Renji's Room – Later

Touka sat on his bed, watching him pace by the window. His room was neat but hollow. Too quiet. Too clean. Like no one had really been living in it.

"You don't have to come every day," Renji said finally, his voice flat but not cruel. "It's not your job."

"I know," she said softly.

Renji turned to look at her. "Then why?"

Touka smiled faintly, tilting her head. "Because I want to."

He didn't respond.

So she added, "You were alone for too long. Let me be here… even if you don't want to talk. Just until you breathe a little easier."

Renji sat down beside her. Close—but not too close.

"…You're weird," he muttered.

Touka chuckled. "I get that a lot."

There was a long pause. The kind that should've felt awkward, but didn't. It felt like… stillness. Safety.

Evening – 7:03 PM

Touka stood at the front door, ready to leave. The sun had dipped low, casting long orange shadows across the street.

"I'll see you tomorrow," she said, turning with a smile.

Renji just nodded, hand tucked in his hoodie pocket. His eyes lingered on her longer than he meant to. The soft way the wind played with her hair. The way her smile always seemed… real.

Then he turned to head back inside.

That's when he saw her.

His older sister had just reached the front gate, grocery bag in hand. She froze, mid-step, when she saw him.

Renji's entire body tensed.

Without a word, he looked away, stepped into the house, and shut the door.

No greeting. No eye contact. Nothing.

She stared at the door for a long moment, blinking back something sharp in her eyes. The silence between them was worse than any insult he could've thrown at her.

Inside, Renji walked straight to his room.

And locked the door.

Later That Night

Renji lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling. The quiet buzz of the night outside his window mixed with the dull hum of the streetlights.

His thoughts were a blur of moments—Touka's hand in his, her voice, her patience. And then the look on his mom's face… the blank stare of his sister.

They were all breaking in their own ways.

But he wasn't ready to fix anything.

Not yet.

Maybe not ever.

Meanwhile – Touka's POV

Touka sat on her bed, scrolling through her phone. Her eyes paused on an old photo saved deep in her gallery. A blurry childhood shot—two kids playing "house" in a sandbox.

The boy had messy black hair and a shy smile.

The girl had a plastic tiara.

He had once said, "When I grow up, I'll marry you for real."

She had replied, "Then I'll wait until we're big enough to hold hands forever."

Touka's fingers brushed the screen gently. Her voice was quiet but firm:

"You forgot me, Renji. But I didn't forget you."