Chapter 39: Withering Vows

"When I woke up in that hospital bed, I felt like I was drifting through a fog. The beeping machines, the cold, sterile air—it all felt distant. But my husband's quiet sobs beside me were painfully clear." 

Tsukiko's voice was steady, but there was an undeniable weight behind it. "I turned my head and saw him hunched over, his face buried in his hands. He was apologizing, over and over."

Haruki listened intently, his usual easygoing expression darkening with something heavier—regret, sympathy, maybe even anger on her behalf. 

"Much worse is… I lost my baby," she continued, her words softer now, almost as if saying them out loud made the pain real all over again. 

"The tiny life I had been carrying, the future I had dreamed of—it had slipped away, just like everything else. A deep, wrenching grief took hold of me, and I knew, in that moment, that I couldn't stay."

Haruki exhaled slowly, his fingers tightening slightly around his cup. He wanted to say something, anything, but what words could possibly make this better? The silence stretched between them before Tsukiko broke it again.

"While my husband was at work, I made my decision. There was nothing left for me in that apartment. I gathered my documents, packed my things, and left. I didn't leave a note. I didn't say goodbye. He had made his choices, and now I was making mine."

Her lips pressed together before she added, "I also quit my job at Lumen Flora, though I fought so hard for it. I guess it's the right thing to do. Then I filed for divorce."

Haruki's jaw tightened. He had always thought of Tsukiko as someone strong, but now he understood—she hadn't just been strong. She had been alone. 

"Surprising, right?" Tsukiko smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Such a miserable life I had."

Haruki's expression faltered at the mention of her loss, his heart heavy with sympathy. He immediately regretted pushing her to answer, realizing now that this was a wound she had never let fully heal.

"Tsukiko... I'm so sorry," he said softly.

Tsukiko met his gaze, her eyes holding a mix of sadness and a strange acceptance. She gave a small, tight smile. "It's okay. It happened a long time ago. It's just... something I never fully talked about."

The silence between them grew thick, heavy with unspoken emotions. Haruki could see the struggle on her face, the way she tried to hold back tears that threatened to fall. He hated that she had to carry this alone.

"It's already late," Tsukiko said, her voice steady despite the vulnerability in it. "Let's go back."

Haruki nodded, though he still felt the sting of her story in his chest. "Yeah, let's go. I'll send you home."

The night air greeted them as they rode in silence, the soft hum of the engine mixing with the rustling breeze.

Haruki, still grappling with the weight of her words, couldn't help but feel the surge of anger rising within him. The injustice of it all.

Without thinking, he reached forward, pulling her hand from the front and guiding it to wrap around him, his other hand securing hers. He felt the shift in the way she held on to him, tight, as if she, too, was holding on for comfort.

Tsukiko's tears began to fall, hidden beneath her helmet, but Haruki could feel the tremble of her body against his. His heart ached, and the protective instinct he had buried deep inside him flared to the surface.