The clinking of coffee cups and the low hum of conversations filled the little café on the corner of the street. Outside, the sky was already heavy with gray clouds, threatening rain. Inside, Renji Asakura sat across from the woman he had been dating for six months.
She didn't meet his eyes.
Her hands fidgeted with the edge of a napkin, twisting it into a crumpled ball. Renji already knew what was coming. He had heard these words before, spoken by different voices, under different circumstances, but they always carried the same quiet finality.
"Renji," she began softly, her tone apologetic, "you're really kind. You've always treated me well. But…"
There it was. But. That one word always marked the ending.
She looked up finally, her expression pained but resolute. "I don't see forever with you. I think it's better if we stop here, before we hurt each other more."
Renji forced a smile. It wasn't bitter, nor angry. Just tired. "I see. Thanks for telling me."
It was all he could say. He wasn't the type to beg someone to stay. If her heart wasn't with him anymore, then no words could change that.
They sat in silence for a moment longer. She stood, bowed her head slightly, and left without another word.
Renji stayed seated, staring at the untouched coffee between his hands. The steam had already faded, leaving the cup lukewarm. He let out a small sigh, leaning back against the chair.
"…That makes breakup number seven," he muttered to himself.
The table across from him was empty now. It always ended this way. No matter how promising things seemed at the start, no matter how much he thought, this time will be different, it never lasted. Some broke up after weeks. Others, months. Once, even after two years. But all of them ended abruptly, as if the thread of connection simply snapped without warning.
He left some of them. More often, they left him. The reasons varied—distance, timing, "different values," or simply falling out of love. But the result was the same.
Renji glanced at the window. The first drops of rain began to patter against the glass.
"…Guess even the sky's pitying me."
He laughed at his own joke, but there was no joy in it. Grabbing his jacket, he left the café.
The rain came down harder as he walked through the streets. He didn't bother with an umbrella. Getting soaked almost felt like punishment for another failed relationship. His friends would tease him again—"Asakura, you're cursed!"—and he'd laugh it off like always. But deep down, he couldn't shake the thought.
Maybe he really was cursed.
"Why is it so hard… to just find someone who'll stay?"
His words were swallowed by the rain, unheard by anyone but himself.
He didn't realize how far he had walked until he turned into a narrow alleyway, seeking shelter. The street was quiet, tucked away from the bustle of the main road. That was when he saw it—
A faint, golden light spilling out from a small storefront he had never noticed before.
It was a bookstore.
The sign above the door was worn and faded, as if it had been there for decades, yet the warm glow from inside made it inviting. Almost… alive.
Renji blinked. "…Since when was this here?"
Drawn by curiosity—or maybe just the need to escape the rain—he pushed open the door.
A soft chime rang. The scent of old paper and wood filled the air, calming in a way that felt almost nostalgic. Rows of shelves stretched neatly across the room, stacked with books of all sizes and colors.
Behind the counter stood a girl.
She looked up the moment he entered, her expression shifting into a bright smile as if she had been expecting him all along. Her hair was long and dark, tied loosely behind her shoulders, and her eyes sparkled with an unreadable mischief.
"Welcome," she said. "You look like someone who just got dumped."
Renji froze. "…Excuse me?"
She tilted her head, resting her chin in her hand. "The rain-soaked hair. The empty eyes. That little sigh just before you walked in. Classic heartbreak symptoms."
Renji stared at her in disbelief. "Is that really how you greet customers?"
"Only the ones who need it," she replied, her grin widening.
Despite himself, Renji let out a short laugh. It was the first genuine one he'd managed since the café.
"Maybe you're right," he admitted. "Yeah… I just got dumped. Again."
The girl didn't offer pity, or words of comfort. Instead, she walked over to a shelf, scanned the spines with her finger, and pulled out a single book. She handed it to him.
"The Endings We Refuse to Write," Renji read the title aloud. He raised an eyebrow. "…Seriously?"
"Seriously," she said with a mysterious glint in her eyes. "Take it. Maybe it'll help."
Renji hesitated, then sighed. "Fine. Why not?"
As he carried the book to the counter, the girl leaned forward slightly, lowering her voice as if sharing a secret.
"You know," she said, "sometimes endings aren't as final as they seem. Sometimes they're just waiting for someone brave enough to rewrite them."
Renji frowned, unsure how to respond. But her words lingered in his mind as he paid for the book.
When he stepped back out into the rain, the weight in his chest felt a little lighter.
He glanced back once. The bookstore glowed warmly against the storm, the girl's silhouette visible through the window. For the first time in a long while, Renji wondered—
Could this be the beginning of something different?