---
The storm outside had not let up since that day in the library. It was as though the heavens themselves were mourning alongside her, a never-ending downpour that seemed to wash away the remnants of a past she could never reclaim. Kaori stared out the window of her bedroom, watching as the rain battered against the glass. She could feel the cold air seeping through the cracks, but the chill didn't bother her. There was something comforting about the storm's relentless force, as though it mirrored the turmoil inside her.
Since the encounter with Shun, Kaori had spent the days in a quiet haze. She went through the motions, attended classes, met with her friends, but everything felt distant, like she was looking at her life through a fogged window. Aiko had tried to get her to talk more, to share her thoughts, but Kaori could never find the right words. Instead, she spent more time alone, seeking solace in the silence of her room or wandering the city streets when the weather allowed.
But no matter how much she tried to ignore it, the pain was always there, lurking in the background. Ryo's absence had left an emptiness she could never quite fill, and no matter how much she longed to move forward, there were moments when the past would come rushing back in waves, drowning her.
It had been six months since Ryo's death, yet the grief still felt fresh, as if it had only just begun. Each memory of him—his laugh, his warmth, the way he held her hand—felt like a cruel reminder of what she had lost. Sometimes, in the quiet of her room, she could almost hear his voice calling out to her, as though he were still there, waiting for her. But when she reached out to answer, there was only silence.
The next morning, after a particularly restless night, Kaori found herself walking aimlessly through the streets, her mind too clouded to focus on anything in particular. The rain had stopped, but the air was still thick with moisture. She passed familiar landmarks—places she had been to with Ryo—each one a painful reminder of the life they had once shared. The sadness threatened to overwhelm her, but she kept walking, refusing to let herself fall back into the hole she had been in before.
It was in this state, lost in her thoughts, that she found herself at the old bridge. The bridge where she and Ryo had first confessed their feelings for each other, where they had spent hours talking about their future, their dreams. She could still remember the way he had smiled at her, his eyes full of hope and love. It felt like a lifetime ago, yet it was only yesterday.
Kaori stood at the edge of the bridge, gazing down at the river below. The water was still, the surface reflecting the gray sky above. It was almost as if the world had paused, waiting for something.
And then, without warning, the floodgates inside her heart opened.
Tears, hot and heavy, welled up in her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. She didn't try to stop them. For the first time in months, she allowed herself to cry, to feel the full weight of her grief. It was as though a dam had broken, and the flood of emotions came pouring out, each one more painful than the last.
She had been so focused on moving forward, on pretending that she could somehow heal, that she had forgotten what it felt like to truly grieve. The love she had for Ryo, the life they had dreamed of, was never going to be hers. And that was something she would have to live with for the rest of her life.
In the midst of her tears, she heard the familiar sound of footsteps approaching. She turned, surprised to see Shun standing there, his face solemn and full of concern. He had followed her, though she hadn't realized it. He had always been good at that—finding her when she needed someone the most, even when she didn't ask for it.
"Kaori," he said gently, his voice breaking through the silence. "I... I'm sorry. I shouldn't have followed you."
Kaori wiped her eyes, though the tears wouldn't stop. "No... it's okay," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "I don't know what to do anymore. I don't know how to live with this pain. It hurts so much, Shun. It hurts so much."
Shun stepped closer, his expression filled with a deep empathy that Kaori hadn't expected. "I know it does. I know it's hard. But you don't have to carry it alone. You don't have to be strong all the time. It's okay to feel everything."
For a moment, Kaori stood there, silent, as the weight of his words sank in. She didn't have to be strong. She didn't have to pretend that everything was okay. She could feel the pain, acknowledge it, and still find a way to survive.
Shun reached out then, his hand gentle on her shoulder, and Kaori didn't pull away. She didn't want to be alone in that moment. She needed someone to help her carry the burden, even if it was just for a little while.
"I'm here," Shun said softly. "I'll be here. For as long as you need me."
Kaori didn't know how long they stood there, the two of them by the bridge, surrounded by the stillness of the world. But eventually, the sun began to break through the clouds, casting a soft light over everything. The rain had stopped, and the world felt a little less heavy.
And in that moment, Kaori realized something important—she didn't need to have all the answers. She didn't need to fix everything. She just needed to keep going, step by step, one day at a time.
It wouldn't be easy. It would never be easy. But she wasn't alone anymore. Not completely.
---
End of Chapter 12.