It was finally the weekend. Saturday. To me every saturday were the same, it was a day I could take of my lenses the entire day, but it was always boring for me, I didn't have friends to visit, places to go, or fun things to do, but it didn't bother me, after all I hate the world now.
Saturday mornings were supposed to be quiet. But not today.
Hikari had invited me out the night before. A local street festival near the river. Her exact words had been:
**"It'll be fun! You need to get out more."**
What I didn't expect was the other two.
"This is Natsumi," she said when I arrived, gesturing to the girl beaming beside her like the sun in human form. All warm eyes and a smile that made it feel like she'd known me forever. "My best friend!"
Natsumi beamed and stepped forward, her voice light and genuine. "Nice to *finally* meet you! Hikari talks about you more than she thinks she does."
Before I could respond, she reached out and gently adjusted the collar of Hikari's jacket. "You always forget to fix this," she said with a little laugh, clearly used to it. Then she turned back to me. "She's a mess without someone looking after her, y'know?"
There was no teasing in her tone — just affection. The kind that told you she didn't just *like* people, she *took care* of them.
"And this is Haru," she added, linking arms with a guy standing quietly at her side. He gave a small nod, soft-spoken and calm.
I forced a polite smile, already wishing I'd stayed home.
It wasn't that they were bad people — they were kind, lively, exactly the sort of people who made the world feel warm. But they were too bright for me. And I couldn't even see them clearly.
My vision was blurred due to the lenses. The lenses were scratched again, blurring the edges of everything — like trying to live underwater. I hadn't told Hikari. She hadn't noticed.
I spent the next hour pretending I was fine.
The festival was loud — filled with voices, laughter, the smell of fried food and sweet things. Natsumi pulled Hikari from stall to stall, talking a mile a minute. Haru kept pace, quiet but engaged.
And I trailed behind, trying to smile when someone looked my way, blinking constantly to clear the haze from my vision.
Everything was shapes and colors.
I couldn't read the signs, couldn't recognize faces from more than a few feet away. I bumped into strangers. Missed steps. At one point, I almost tripped over a cord running from a takoyaki stand and had to pretend I meant to stop.
No one noticed. Not even Hikari.
She glanced back a few times — to laugh, to wave me over — but she never really *looked*. Not close enough to see how tightly I was clenching my jaw, how quiet I'd gotten.
I didn't belong there. I never had.
When they got caught up at a candy apple stall, talking and laughing and pointing at prizes they might win, I stepped back. And then I kept stepping.
No one turned around.
Not Natsumi.
Not Haru.
Not even Hikari.
So I left.
I walked back through the narrow side streets, hands shoved into my pockets, the sound of the festival fading behind me like a memory I didn't want to keep. My vision blurred worse in the fading light, but it didn't matter anymore. I didn't need to see anything.
I wasn't angry.
Just tired.
Tired of pretending I was part of something.
And deep down, I knew something I hadn't wanted to admit — I'd never wanted to go. Not really. I just didn't know how to say no to *her*.
Now she was dragging more people into my world, and I couldn't handle that.
Not when every step forward felt like a step away from safety.
By the time I got home, I still hadn't gotten a single message.
No missed calls.
No one noticed I was gone.
And maybe that's exactly how it was supposed to be.
I lay in bed staring at the ceiling, the soft glow of my phone lighting up my face. Still nothing.
No "Where did you go?"
No "Are you okay?"
No anything.
I told myself I didn't care. That it was better this way — easier, cleaner. I didn't need to be dragged into warm circles and friendly banter. I didn't need to be someone else for her friends.
But something about the silence gnawed at me anyway.
Because a part of me had hoped… maybe she'd notice.
It wasn't until almost midnight that my phone finally buzzed.
**[Hikari]:**
*Hey… where did you go?*
I stared at the message for a long time. It sat there like a crack in glass — small, but enough to make everything feel fragile. She hadn't noticed until now. Or maybe she had, but the fun distracted her.
Either way, it stung.
I didn't reply.
Not yet.
A few minutes passed. Then another message.
**[Hikari]:**
*Did something happen? You just disappeared.*
*Are you okay?*
I thought about telling her the truth. That my eyes had been burning all day, that I couldn't see more than a blur, that I felt like a shadow next to her and her shining friends. That I wasn't built for days like today — full of smiles and stalls and laughter I couldn't catch up to.
But that would make her feel guilty. And I didn't want that.
Not from her.
So I typed slowly:
**[Me]:** *Sorry. I wasn't feeling well. Left early.*
Three dots appeared. Then vanished. Then appeared again.
**[Hikari]:**
*You should've told me. I would've left with you.*
*I'm sorry. I didn't realize something was wrong.*
I didn't respond right away.
And then:
My phone buzzed again.
**[Hikari]:**
*I'll make it up to you.*
*Just you and me next time, okay?*
*Promise.*
For a moment, I just stared at the message.
I knew she meant well. I knew she probably felt bad, and this was her way of trying to fix it — just us, no distractions, no bright people I didn't know how to stand next to.
But I didn't want to be fixed. Not right now.
**[Me]:**
*You don't have to.*
*It's fine.*
Her reply came fast.
**[Hikari]:**
*But I want to. Just a quiet place. Like the rooftop. Just us.*
My chest tightened. That rooftop — the place where the sky felt endless, where we shared things we never meant to say out loud.
But today had drained me. The blur, the loneliness, the feeling of being invisible in a crowd that was supposed to be warm.
I couldn't do that again. Not yet.
**[Me]:**
*Maybe not next time.*
*I just need space for a bit.*
The typing bubble appeared, then disappeared. Then again.
But no message came through.
I set my phone down, facedown this time, and let the silence press in.
I didn't know what she was thinking.
But for once, I didn't want to know.
I lay in the dark for a long time after that. My phone was silent. The world outside had gone quiet. Even my thoughts seemed to be holding their breath.
I kept replaying the day — the blur of faces, the laughter I couldn't join in, the way her eyes never quite met mine. And then her messages, like tiny threads trying to pull me back into the light.
But I couldn't keep doing this.
Pretending I was okay. Pretending she had all the time in the world.
She didn't.
And maybe she'd hate me for it.
Maybe she'd never speak to me again.
But I couldn't keep carrying this weight alone. I couldn't keep looking at her and knowing what she didn't.
So I made the decision.
**Monday.**
I would tell her everything.
Not just how I felt — not just the love that had been eating away at my chest for weeks — but the truth. The one no one else could see.
That she was dying.
That she only had **87 days** left.
No more silence.
No more pretending.
Even if it shattered everything…
She deserved to know.