chapter 28: the weight of tomorrow

---

The days blurred together, each one indistinguishable from the last. Kaori had returned to the routine of her life, though everything seemed muted and distant. The world felt like a dream—a world where she could see everything but couldn't quite touch it. Each time she woke, the first thing that hit her was the realization: Ryo was gone. That fact remained, unwavering and cold, like an anchor pulling her deeper into the abyss of her grief.

Shun's words had stayed with her. "I'm here for you, whenever you're ready." But she didn't know if she'd ever be ready. How could she ever move on when her heart had been so irrevocably tied to someone who no longer existed?

She had tried, in the beginning, to take comfort in the little things: the warmth of a cup of tea, the occasional visit from Mrs. Fujita, the walks through the park that she used to share with Ryo. But none of it was enough. It was as if the light had been drained from her world, leaving everything shrouded in gray.

But on this particular morning, something felt different. There was a strange, almost tangible shift in the air. Kaori couldn't explain it, but it felt like a warning. A deep, unsettling sense of anticipation gnawed at her gut as she stood in front of the mirror, brushing her hair. The reflection staring back at her seemed like a stranger—a hollow version of herself, the smile gone, the spark of life dimmed.

She forced herself to step outside, hoping that the air would offer her some relief. But as soon as she closed the door behind her, she was met with the heavy silence of her own thoughts. No matter how hard she tried to push it away, the sorrow remained, an uninvited companion to her every step.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket, and for a moment, she thought it might be a message from Shun. But when she pulled it out, she saw that it was a reminder: "One year anniversary of Ryo's passing. Memorial service at 5 PM."

The reminder felt like a slap in the face, a cruel reality she couldn't escape. She stared at the notification for a long time, her hand trembling slightly as she held the phone. She wasn't ready to face it. She wasn't ready to relive that day—the day everything had shattered.

But there was no getting away from it. No hiding from the inevitable. The past had caught up with her once again, dragging her back into the memories she had tried so hard to leave behind.

She spent the rest of the afternoon in a fog, lost in her thoughts, her mind replaying the events of that fateful day—the crash, the sirens, the hospital room, and the final, whispered words Ryo had spoken to her as he slipped away.

Kaori closed her eyes, leaning against the wall of her apartment, trying to hold on to the last fragments of him. The smell of his cologne still lingered in the air, faint but present. It was as if he had never left, and yet, she could feel his absence more keenly than ever.

The clock on the wall ticked loudly, a constant reminder of the passage of time. She could hear the sound of her own breath, shallow and ragged, as the weight of the impending memorial suffocated her. She couldn't go. She couldn't face it. But at the same time, she knew she had to. For Ryo. For the love they had shared.

With a deep, shuddering breath, she forced herself to get ready. She dressed in black, the color that seemed to symbolize the darkness inside her heart, and made her way to the place where she had once promised to be with Ryo forever. It felt like a cruel joke, a mockery of the vows they had made. But it was the only way forward.

The memorial was held in a small chapel on the outskirts of town, the same chapel where Ryo had asked her to marry him all those years ago. The thought of it made her chest tighten, and for a moment, she almost turned around and ran.

But she couldn't. She had to see it through. She had to face this final goodbye.

As she entered the chapel, Kaori was greeted by the familiar faces of friends and family. Shun was there, standing in the back, his eyes filled with concern as he caught sight of her. She gave him a small, forced smile, but she could see the worry in his expression.

"Kaori," he said softly, walking up to her. "You didn't have to come if you weren't ready…"

But Kaori shook her head, her throat tight with emotion. "I have to," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "For him."

Shun nodded, his gaze softening. He wanted to say more, to offer her the comfort she so desperately needed, but he knew it wasn't the right time. He had seen how broken she was, how much she was carrying, and he didn't want to force her to open up before she was ready.

The ceremony began, and Kaori found herself sitting quietly in a corner, her eyes fixed on the small urn at the front of the room. Ryo's ashes, the remnants of a life that had once been so full of promise, were now just dust. The thought of it sent a shiver through her spine, and she had to fight to keep herself from breaking down completely.

As the priest spoke, his words felt like a distant echo, nothing more than a blur of sound in the midst of her grief. All she could think about was Ryo—his laugh, his touch, his love—and the devastating reality that she would never see him again.

The ceremony came to an end, and everyone began to file out of the chapel. Kaori lingered, her gaze still fixed on the urn. She couldn't bring herself to leave, not yet. She wasn't ready to let go of him. She didn't know if she would ever be ready.

Shun approached her slowly, his presence a quiet reassurance in the midst of her storm. "Kaori," he said gently, placing a hand on her shoulder. "I know this is hard. I know you're hurting. But you don't have to face this alone. I'm here, no matter what."

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Kaori allowed herself to lean into his touch. She closed her eyes, her chest tight with the weight of the emotions she had been holding back. Shun's kindness, his unwavering support, was a balm to her wounded soul. But still, she couldn't shake the feeling that a part of her would always be lost to the past.

"I don't know how to keep going," Kaori whispered, her voice breaking. "I don't know how to live without him."

Shun didn't respond immediately. He simply held her, offering her the comfort of his presence. He didn't have the answers—no one did. But he knew that, for Kaori, the journey toward healing would take time. It would take patience, and perhaps a little hope. But he would be there every step of the way.

And in that quiet moment, with Ryo's memory hanging in the air like a fragile thread, Kaori realized something she had been refusing to accept.

Grief didn't have a timeline. Healing wasn't something that could be rushed. And maybe—just maybe—there was still a future waiting for her, even if it was a future she had never imagined.

---

End of Chapter 28.