Ren froze.
The envelope in Kaito's hand was slightly bent, the corner darkened where rainwater had soaked in. Airi's eyes went wide, darting between them.
Ren stepped off the curb, his voice low but edged. "Where did you get that?"
Kaito met him halfway, his expression frustratingly neutral. "You dropped it. Back at the bridge."
"I didn't drop it." Ren's tone was flat, certain. He had seen Airi holding it when they walked away.
Kaito tilted his head, eyes flicking toward her. "Then maybe it wasn't you."
Airi flinched almost imperceptibly. Ren caught it.
He took the envelope from Kaito's hand, feeling the damp paper crinkle under his fingers. "Did you open it?"
Kaito gave the faintest shrug. "It wasn't sealed."
Ren's jaw tightened. "So you did read it."
Kaito didn't confirm, but the shadow of a smile passed across his face—like someone who had just gained a piece of information they weren't supposed to have.
"What was in it?" Airi asked quickly, her voice sharper than usual.
Ren kept his gaze locked on Kaito. "Nothing you need to hear from him." He shoved the envelope into his jacket pocket.
Kaito's eyes lingered on Airi for a moment longer before he stepped back toward the shadows of the alley beside the café. "I'll see you both around," he said lightly, as if the tension between them didn't exist. Then he was gone.
They walked in silence, the sound of their footsteps mixing with the faint drizzle beginning to fall. Ren could feel the questions pressing against the back of his teeth, but Airi spoke first.
"Ren… what was in that letter?"
He hesitated. Telling her would make things more complicated. Not telling her might make things worse.
"It was—" He stopped himself. "—something I wrote before today. Something I wasn't sure I was ready to give you."
"Then why did you?"
Ren glanced at her, seeing the confusion in her eyes. "Because I thought you deserved to know what I was feeling. Before Kaito showed up."
She swallowed. "Does it change anything? That he saw it?"
Ren's grip tightened on the envelope in his pocket. "If it does, it's because he'll try to use it."
They reached her apartment building, but neither moved toward the door. The rain had picked up, soft and steady, soaking their shoulders.
Airi looked at him like she was trying to read every unspoken word on his face. "Ren… if Kaito's presence is going to turn this into a fight between you two, I don't want to be the reason."
"You're not the reason," he said firmly. "But I'm not going to let him rewrite the past. Or the future."
She gave a faint smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Then you'd better make sure you're still standing when this is over."
Ren nodded once. "I will."
She turned and disappeared into the building, leaving him alone under the rain.
He stood there for a moment, then pulled the envelope from his pocket. The edges were frayed, the paper thin from dampness.
Inside, his confession—raw and unpolished—was still there. But so was something else.
A folded scrap of paper he hadn't written.
Five words, scrawled in Kaito's handwriting:
"You don't know everything yet."