chapter 14: a distant light

---

The days grew shorter as autumn settled over the city. The air was crisp with the first whispers of winter, and the leaves began to fall, blanketing the ground in a golden hue that felt both beautiful and melancholic. Kaori felt as if she were watching the world change around her, while she remained in the same place—frozen in time, struggling to move forward.

But the pain had dulled slightly, like a wound that was healing but still tender to the touch. It wasn't as sharp as it had been in those first weeks after Ryo's death, but it was always there, lurking just beneath the surface. Kaori had learned to live with it, to acknowledge it without letting it consume her. Yet, there were still moments when it would flare up, when she would catch herself in the middle of a memory, and the weight of her loss would come crashing back over her.

It was late one afternoon when she found herself walking through the same park again, the one she had visited with Shun several weeks ago. She hadn't been back since that day, but for some reason, she felt drawn to it again. The air was cold now, biting at her cheeks as she made her way down the familiar path. She kept her head down, her hands tucked into her coat pockets, and walked slowly, letting the rhythmic crunch of fallen leaves beneath her feet soothe her racing thoughts.

She wasn't sure what she was expecting. Maybe she thought the park would feel different this time—less haunted by the memories of Ryo, or perhaps more comforting, like an old friend she could rely on. But it wasn't. The park was still beautiful, still serene, but now it seemed more distant, as if it had become a place out of time, a place where she was no longer a part of the world she once knew.

As she walked, her thoughts drifted back to Shun. He had been her constant, her steady presence when everything else felt like it was falling apart. And yet, despite his unwavering support, Kaori had begun to realize something she hadn't wanted to admit—she wasn't ready to move on. Not completely. The thought of being with someone else, of finding love again, felt like a betrayal to Ryo, as if she were erasing him from her life.

She stopped at the bench where she and Ryo had once sat, the place where they had shared so many quiet moments, their hands intertwined as they talked about their hopes and dreams. It was here that Kaori had first realized that her love for Ryo was something beyond anything she had ever known—a love that had been taken from her too soon.

Now, as she sat on the same bench, the emptiness felt even more pronounced. The world around her seemed to mock her inability to move forward. She wanted to shout at the sky, to demand why it had taken Ryo from her, why life had to go on without him. But there were no answers, no solace to be found in the cold, indifferent world.

The tears came again, unbidden and uncontrollable, as they always did when she allowed herself to remember. She wiped her face with the sleeve of her coat, but it did little to stem the tide. In this moment, Kaori allowed herself to feel every ounce of the pain, the loss, the longing that had been building inside her. She couldn't hold it in anymore. She couldn't keep pretending that she was okay.

"Kaori."

The voice came softly, like a whisper on the wind. Kaori's heart skipped a beat as she looked up, her eyes still blurred with tears. Standing in front of her was Shun, his face etched with concern, his posture slightly stiff as though unsure of what to do next.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Kaori didn't know what to say, didn't know how to explain the storm of emotions swirling inside her. Shun didn't seem to expect any answers. Instead, he simply sat down beside her on the bench, close enough that their shoulders brushed, but not so close as to invade her space.

"I'm sorry," Kaori whispered, her voice shaky. "I didn't mean to fall apart like this."

"You don't have to apologize," Shun replied softly. "You're allowed to feel whatever you're feeling. It's not wrong to grieve."

Kaori shook her head, her chest tightening. "But I don't know how to stop. It's like... it's like I'm drowning in it, and I can't breathe without him. How do you live with that? How do you keep going when the person you loved is gone?"

Shun didn't answer right away. He just sat there, letting the question hang between them, allowing the quiet of the park to fill the space. Then, slowly, he spoke, his voice low but steady.

"I don't think you ever truly stop grieving. Not in the way you think. But you learn how to carry it. You learn how to live alongside it, even when it feels impossible."

Kaori glanced at him, her face crumpling with the effort it took to fight back the tears. "How do you know that?"

Shun smiled, though it was a sad smile, one filled with understanding. "Because I've been there. I've lost people too. I know what it's like to carry that weight, to feel like you're never going to be able to move on. But eventually, you start to find ways to keep living. Even if it's just one small step at a time."

The words hung in the air, and for the first time in a long time, Kaori felt something stir inside her. A small, flickering spark of hope, fragile but real. Maybe she didn't need to have everything figured out. Maybe it was enough to keep moving, one moment, one step, one breath at a time.

She leaned her head on Shun's shoulder, closing her eyes for a moment as the weight of her grief slowly began to feel a little less heavy. She wasn't ready to move on, not yet. But perhaps, just perhaps, she could start to find her way back to the world that had been so torn apart by loss.

Shun didn't say anything. He didn't need to. His presence was enough, offering her the quiet comfort she needed. The park, the world, everything felt just a little bit softer in this moment, as though the distance between the past and the present had narrowed, even if just for a fleeting second.

And as they sat there together, Kaori realized that maybe the road ahead wouldn't be so lonely after all. Not as long as she had people who cared about her—people who would help her carry the weight, one step at a time.

---

End of Chapter 14.