On the fourth day after Harukawa Nagi died, Fujishiro Sumika received a transparent umbrella that was six months late, along with a letter that was never meant to reach her.
Twenty-three days earlier, they had broken up.
The person who used to remind her of the weather every day, bring home broken umbrellas to repair, and smile as she said "See you tomorrow" had finally told her to her face, "When I look at you now, all I feel is that you're a nuisance."
So, beneath the unrelenting rain at the funeral, Sumika began to wonder for the first time: how much of the love they once shared had been real?
From their meeting during the rainy season, to the confession after the summer festival, and then their hasty, cruel parting in autumn.
Only when every lie was finally explained anew in the letter did Sumika understand:
The most selfish kind of tenderness is deciding for the person you love how they should lose themselves.
