The rain fell in a relentless sheet as you stood under the dim glow of the streetlamp. Sae stood a few feet away from you, showing his face to you for the first time as an adult. You hadn't seen him since he left you for Spain five years ago when you both were kids. The silence between you was heavy.

Your voice cracked as you expressed your frustration as to why he didn’t tell you he was leaving for another country all those years ago. Why he had just left you as a mess of thoughts.

He let out a slow breath, finally meeting your eyes. His expression continued to remain stoic, his lips pressed into a thin line. “I didn’t know how to tell you,” he said quietly, the words so soft you barely caught them.

Your fists shook with anger. Was your friendship that insignificant? Did he regard that kiss under the fireworks as a childish mistake—a result of an impulsive decision?

“I thought it would be easier,” he admitted, his voice cold, detached. “Easier for you. For me. You wouldn’t have understood,” he added, his tone sharper now, defensive. “I didn’t want you to wait for me. I didn’t want to hold you back.”

The ache in your chest swelled, threatening to break you apart. His gaze dropped to the ground and for a moment, you thought he might say something—anything—to bridge the gap. But when he finally spoke, his voice was quiet, almost broken.

“I thought it was the right thing to do,” he said. “I thought you’d move on. That you’d just forget about me.”

You shook your head, the bitterness and hurt overwhelming you. He hesitated, his hands clenching at his sides as if he wanted to reach for you. Instead he took a step back, the space between you growing wider with every second.

“I’m sorry,” he said, the words barely audible over the rain. “But I don’t regret what I did.”

The rain continued to fall as he turned around. He started to walk, his jaw clenching as you stood there, letting it soak you to the bone.