Confronting Her Past

The girl remained perched on the edge of the wooden bench, her small frame trembling as though the weight of her own words threatened to crush her. Her wide, dull gray eyes darted between the koi pond and the towering figure of Tagitsa standing a few feet away. Her gaze lingered on him, searching his calm, detached expression for some hint of reassurance, some acknowledgment of the storm inside her. But his emerald eyes remained steady, unyielding. She found nothing there—no comfort, no pity. Only patience.

Her hands clutched her knees tightly, her fingers digging into the thin fabric of her tattered skirt. She opened her mouth to speak but faltered, the words catching in her throat. She looked away, back at the pond, where the koi drifted lazily beneath the glassy surface. The world around her was serene, tranquil in a way that felt almost cruel. How could everything be so still, so perfect, when she felt like she was unraveling?

"You said I can't leave until I… face it," she finally whispered, her voice trembling. "But how… how do I fix it?"

Tagitsa's gaze remained fixed on her, his posture unmoving. "If you want to move on, you must face it," he said, his tone steady, devoid of emotion.

She glanced up at him, her wide eyes filled with uncertainty. "But how?" she stammered. Her voice cracked, small and fragile, as though the question itself carried the weight of her guilt. "How do I fix it?"

For a moment, Tagitsa didn't answer. The silence stretched between them, broken only by the faint rustle of cherry blossoms in the breeze. Then, without a word, he turned and began walking along the garden path. His movements were deliberate, unhurried, as though he expected her to follow.

She hesitated, her hands still gripping her knees, her body frozen in place. She watched him as he walked away, his tall figure disappearing into the vibrant blooms of the garden. Her heart raced. Every instinct screamed at her to stay where she was, to remain on the bench where it felt safe, where she could cling to the illusion that she didn't need to move forward.

But his presence pulled at her, quiet and undeniable. He hadn't given her answers—he hadn't even tried. And yet, something about the way he moved, the way he simply expected her to follow, made her want to. She didn't understand it, but the thought of being left behind felt heavier than her fear.

Slowly, hesitantly, she pushed herself to her feet. Her legs wobbled beneath her as though the weight of her regret had seeped into her very bones. She took a tentative step forward, then another, her small frame trembling with every movement. She trailed behind him, her footsteps light and cautious, like a shadow that wasn't sure it wanted to follow.

As she walked, her eyes flitted around the garden, taking in its serene beauty. The vibrant flowers swayed gently in the breeze, their colors vivid against the muted gray sky. The cherry blossoms fell in a slow, dreamlike cascade, their petals scattering across the path in soft whispers. The world seemed so peaceful, so far removed from the chaos she felt inside.

Tagitsa didn't look back as he walked, his pace steady and unchanging. The scarf around his neck fluttered slightly in the breeze, but he gave no sign that he noticed her presence. And yet, she couldn't shake the feeling that he was waiting for her, even if he never turned to see if she was following.

The path wound gently through the garden, leading them toward an open space near the center. The koi pond stretched out before them, its surface reflecting the soft blush of the cherry blossoms above. Tagitsa stopped by the water's edge and turned to face her, his expression as calm and unreadable as ever.

She stopped a few steps away, her hands fidgeting nervously at her sides. She glanced at him, then at the pond, then back at him, her wide eyes filled with uncertainty. She wanted to speak, but the words wouldn't come. All she could do was stand there, her small frame dwarfed by the vastness of the garden around her.

Tagitsa's emerald eyes met hers, steady and unyielding. "This is the first step," he said, his voice low but firm. "To face it, you must confront it."

The girl's lips parted, but no sound came out. She stared at him, her hands trembling at her sides. The weight of his words pressed down on her, heavy and undeniable. And yet, beneath the fear, a small spark began to flicker—a faint glimmer of something she couldn't quite name.

It wasn't hope. Not yet. But it was enough to make her take one more step forward.

Tagitsa walked ahead, his long, deliberate strides quiet on the garden path. The girl followed a few steps behind, her small, hesitant steps starkly contrasting his steady pace. Her arms were wrapped tightly around herself as though trying to shield her fragile frame from a world that no longer made sense.

The winding paths of the garden stretched out before them, flanked by vibrant flowers that swayed gently in the breeze. The serene beauty of the surroundings clashed with the turmoil roiling inside her. The soft rustle of cherry blossoms falling through the air provided a soundtrack too peaceful for the weight she carried.

As they walked, Tagitsa spoke, his voice calm and measured. "Tell me again," he said. "The memory of what happened. This time, leave nothing out."

The girl froze momentarily, her wide, dull gray eyes darting toward him. Her grip on her arms tightened. "Why?" she asked, her voice small and trembling.

"To face it, you must confront it," he replied without looking back.

She hesitated, her steps faltering, but then began to walk again. Her eyes dropped to the ground, watching the dirt path beneath her feet. "I already told you," she murmured.

"Tell me again," Tagitsa said, his tone steady, unwavering.

The girl swallowed hard, her hands clutching her arms as though drawing strength from the pressure. She stared at the path, the motion of her feet hypnotic, before her lips began to move. "We were going on a trip," she said, her voice thin and frail.

Her words came haltingly at first, each syllable a struggle, but as they continued walking, her voice began to flow with the rhythm of her steps. "It was just me and my dad. He… he didn't have a lot of time for me, not because he didn't care, but because he was always busy with work. He promised we'd go somewhere fun that weekend—just the two of us."

She let out a shaky breath, her eyes darting toward the vibrant blooms around her as if trying to anchor herself in the present. "I was so excited. I… I brought this toy with me. It made this silly sound whenever you pressed it. I thought it was funny. I thought… he'd think it was funny too."

Tagitsa remained silent, his footsteps steady as he led her farther down the winding path. He didn't press her, giving her space to speak at her own pace.

Her voice grew quieter, trembling. "He laughed at first. But then… he told me to stop. He said it was distracting." A hollow laugh escaped her lips, empty and bitter. "I didn't listen. I kept pressing it because I wanted him to laugh more. I thought I was being funny. I thought…" Her voice faltered.

They reached a bend in the path where the flowers gave way to a clear view of the koi pond, its still waters reflecting the soft hues of the sky. She stopped walking, her small frame stiffening. Her hands gripped her arms tightly, her nails pressing into her sleeves.

"He looked at me," she whispered, her voice cracking. "He turned his head to tell me to stop."

Her knees wobbled slightly, and she clutched herself tighter, as though bracing for an impact only she could feel. "He smiled at me," she said, tears welling up in her wide gray eyes. "And then… he wasn't looking at the road anymore. It's my fault. I distracted him."

Her breath quickened as the tears began to spill over, streaming down her pale cheeks. "If I hadn't been so selfish… if I had just listened, he wouldn't have…" She choked on her words, her body trembling with the weight of her guilt.

Tagitsa stopped and turned to face her. His emerald eyes were steady, unyielding, as they met her tear-filled gaze. "Do you believe he smiled at you because you annoyed him?" he asked, his voice calm, almost clinical. "Or because he loved you?"

The girl faltered, her sobs pausing for a moment as confusion flickered across her face. "I… I don't know," she stammered, her voice breaking.

Her hands loosened slightly from her arms as she stared at him, her tears still falling. The question hung in the air between them, simple yet heavy, its weight pulling her deeper into the memory she had tried so hard to bury.

The girl stood trembling by the edge of the koi pond, her wide gray eyes fixed on the ground as tears rolled silently down her cheeks. Her small hands clenched into fists at her sides, the weight of her guilt pressing down on her like an unbearable weight. The words she had just spoken—her confession, her regret—hung heavily in the air.

Tagitsa watched her quietly, his expression calm and unreadable. The cherry blossoms around them drifted softly to the ground, their gentle descent contrasting sharply with the storm of emotions swirling within the girl. His emerald eyes, steady and piercing, remained fixed on her as he asked, "If you could speak to him now, what would you say?"

Her breath caught at the question, her small frame shuddering. She didn't answer immediately, her lips parting as though to speak but no sound escaping. The silence stretched between them, broken only by the faint rustle of leaves in the breeze and the quiet ripple of the koi pond.

Finally, in a voice barely audible, she whispered, "I'd tell him I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Her hands came up to cover her face as fresh tears began to spill, her shoulders shaking with quiet sobs. "I'd tell him it's my fault… that I didn't listen… that I—" She broke off, unable to continue, her words dissolving into ragged breaths.

Tagitsa didn't move, didn't reach out to her. His posture remained straight, his hands at his sides, his scarf fluttering faintly in the breeze. His detachment wasn't cold, but it wasn't comforting either—it was steady, like the garden itself, an unchanging presence in the face of her turmoil.

"If you carry regret, it will remain with you," he said, his voice calm and even. "But if he smiled because he loved you, wouldn't he want you to smile again, too?"

The girl froze, her sobs faltering. Slowly, she lowered her hands from her face, her tear-streaked eyes turning toward him. Her expression was confused, almost disbelieving, as though she couldn't comprehend the question. "What?" she whispered, her voice shaking.

Tagitsa's gaze didn't waver. "If he loved you enough to smile at you, even in that moment, do you think he'd want you to stay like this?" he asked, his tone steady and measured. "Do you think he'd want his memory to be the reason you're trapped in regret?"

The girl's lips quivered, her breath hitching as she struggled to process his words. Her hands hung limply at her sides, her fingers twitching as though searching for something to hold on to. "I… I don't know," she stammered, her voice breaking. "He always… he always told me…"

Her voice trailed off, her gaze drifting to the koi pond. The still waters reflected the vibrant pink of the cherry blossoms above, their surface undisturbed except for the occasional ripple from the fish swimming below. She stared into the pond, her eyes distant, as though searching for an answer within its depths.

"He always told me my smile made him happy," she whispered finally, her voice trembling. Her hands clenched again, but this time it was less out of pain and more out of realization. "Even when he was tired from work, he'd say it."

Tagitsa remained silent, his presence unwavering as she began to piece together her thoughts. Her tears slowed, though they didn't stop entirely, and she wiped at her cheeks with the back of her hand. Her breathing steadied, and a faint flicker of understanding appeared in her eyes.

"He wouldn't want me to be sad," she murmured, almost to herself. "He… he wouldn't want me to blame myself forever." Her words were fragile, tentative, but they carried a newfound weight, a small step toward clarity.

The garden around them seemed to mirror the shift in her, the stillness taking on a softer, more peaceful quality. The cherry blossoms continued to fall, their quiet descent a reminder of the passing of time, of change.

Tagitsa stood silently, watching her as the tension in her small frame began to ease. He didn't speak, didn't move to guide her further. He simply waited, his emerald eyes steady, giving her the space she needed to process her own emotions.

For the first time since her arrival, the girl's sobs faded entirely, replaced by a quiet, thoughtful calm. She stared into the koi pond, her reflection blurring in the ripples, and whispered again, "My smile made him happy."

The words lingered in the air, fragile but filled with the first traces of acceptance.

The girl's gray eyes remained fixed on the koi pond, her reflection shimmering faintly in the ripples. A new thought seemed to take hold of her, her lips parting hesitantly as she wiped her damp cheeks with trembling fingers.

"He was always so sad after Mom died," she whispered, her voice barely audible. Her hands gripped the edges of her skirt, twisting the fabric between her fingers as she spoke. "He tried not to show it, but I could tell."

Her shoulders slumped, and she let out a shaky breath. "I remember finding him sitting alone sometimes, staring at a picture of her. He didn't cry—not in front of me—but I knew he missed her. I missed her too."

Her voice broke slightly, and she paused, gathering herself before continuing. "But whenever I smiled… it was like the sadness in his eyes went away, just for a little while. He'd look at me and say, 'Your smile's enough to keep me going.'"

She looked up at Tagitsa then, her wide eyes shimmering with fresh tears, though her expression carried a faint glimmer of understanding. "That's all I wanted—to make him happy. To make him laugh, even for a moment. I didn't want him to feel so lonely."

Her gaze dropped to the ground, her hands still gripping her skirt tightly. "That's why I was being silly that day in the car. I thought… I thought if I could just make him laugh like he used to, everything would feel okay again. I didn't mean to—" Her voice cracked, and she bit her lip to stop the tears threatening to spill over again.

For a moment, the air between them was heavy with her grief, the weight of her memories pressing down on her small frame. The garden's serenity seemed to wrap around her like a quiet embrace, the cherry blossoms continuing to fall softly, as if urging her forward.

Tagitsa, as ever, stood silently. His emerald eyes remained fixed on her, his expression calm and detached. He gave no judgment, no comfort, only his steady presence. It was enough to let her continue.

"I just wanted him to smile again," she whispered, her voice trembling. "To forget, even for a second, how much it hurt."

She looked back at the koi pond, her reflection now clearer in the water as her breathing began to even out. "I didn't mean for it to happen like that. I didn't want him to…" She trailed off, her voice faltering.

Her hands slowly loosened their grip on her skirt, and she let out another shaky breath. The tears in her eyes didn't fall this time; they shimmered but held steady, like the fragile balance she was beginning to find. "I just wanted to make him happy," she repeated softly, as though trying to convince herself it was okay to feel that way.

Tagitsa watched her, his stance unwavering, his silence giving her space to sit with her thoughts. As the koi swam lazily beneath the surface of the pond and the petals continued to drift down, her small frame seemed just a little less burdened, her breathing steadier.

The first steps toward clarity had been taken.

The girl's trembling began to ease as her words lingered in the air, absorbed by the serene stillness of the garden. Her wide, gray eyes reflected the koi pond's soft ripples as she stared into the water, her small hands resting loosely on her lap. Slowly, hesitantly, her tear-streaked face lifted toward Tagitsa.

Her lips quivered, and for a moment, it seemed as though she might cry again. But instead, something else emerged—a faint, fragile curve of her mouth. A smile. Small and hesitant, it was a glimmer of peace breaking through the weight of her sorrow.

"He would want me to be happy," she whispered, her voice soft but resolute. The trembling in her hands stilled, her posture relaxing as though the invisible chains that had bound her were beginning to loosen.

Tagitsa stood silently, his emerald eyes fixed on her. He didn't react, his expression as calm and detached as it had been since her arrival. He gave no acknowledgment of her smile, no words of approval or comfort. Yet his presence, steady and unwavering, seemed to envelop her like the quiet strength of the garden itself.

The girl glanced back at the pond, her smile growing just slightly. "He always said my smile made him happy," she murmured, her voice steadier now. "I think… I think that's what he'd want me to remember."

A faint glow began to emanate from her small frame, soft and warm, like the first light of dawn breaking over the horizon. The garden around them seemed to hold its breath as the glow grew brighter, the petals of the cherry blossoms reflecting its gentle radiance.

She looked at Tagitsa one last time, her gray eyes now clear and shimmering with gratitude. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice carrying the weight of her release and the lightness of her newfound clarity.

The glow enveloped her completely, and her form began to dissolve into the air, her edges fading like a morning mist touched by the sun. The light lingered for a moment longer, soft and radiant, before disappearing entirely.

The garden was silent once more, the koi pond undisturbed, the cherry blossoms drifting lazily through the air. It was as though she had never been there, yet something intangible remained—a faint trace of her presence, a subtle shift in the stillness.

Tagitsa remained standing where she had disappeared, his gaze fixed on the spot. His expression didn't change, his emerald eyes as calm and unreadable as ever. He stood there for a long moment before murmuring, "418,292."

With that, he turned back toward the garden, his steps deliberate and unhurried. He picked up a pair of shears resting near a bush of hydrangeas and resumed his work, his movements as precise and emotionless as they had always been.

Yet, for the briefest moment, as the cherry blossoms fluttered past him, there was something different. A shadow of a thought, an echo of her smile, flickered faintly in the depths of his mind.

But it passed as quickly as it had come, and the garden returned to its timeless rhythm.