chapter 41: the weight of time
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Kaori walked back to her apartment that night, her steps slow and heavy, as though each one carried the weight of a thousand regrets. The vision of Ryo, so real and tangible, haunted her every moment. It was the kind of cruel mirage that offered a fleeting glimpse of hope, only to rip it away just as quickly. Her heart felt as though it had been shredded into pieces, scattered in the wind, and no matter how much she tried, she could never piece it back together.
Her apartment greeted her with the same cold silence as it had every night since Ryo's passing. The place, once filled with warmth and laughter, now felt hollow. Every corner was a reminder of what she had lost. Every object, every picture on the wall, felt like an echo of a life that no longer existed.
She stepped into the living room and collapsed onto the couch, burying her face in her hands. The tears came again, unbidden, as if they had been waiting for her to break down, to finally surrender to the sorrow that had been gnawing at her since the day Ryo had died. The pain, it seemed, would never end. It was like a shadow, following her, never giving her respite.
She thought back to the funeral—the funeral she had attended with a numbness in her chest, as though her heart had already left her body. She had barely been able to function, her body moving through the motions without any sense of purpose. The people around her had offered their condolences, their comforting words, but none of it mattered. How could it? Ryo was gone, and nothing anyone said would bring him back.
The memory of her last conversation with him before everything had shattered lingered in her mind. They had been planning to go on a trip together, to escape from the weight of their responsibilities for just a little while. Ryo had been so excited, so full of life. They had talked about the places they would go, the things they would do. But now, all those plans felt like nothing more than cruel jokes, dreams that had never come true.
Kaori pulled her knees to her chest, curling into herself as if the very act could shield her from the raw ache that spread through her body. She couldn't stop the thoughts. They came unbidden, crashing over her in waves. She had failed him. She hadn't done enough. There had to have been something she could have done to save him, to keep him by her side. If only she had been stronger. If only she had known how to make him stay.
Her phone buzzed on the coffee table, pulling her out of her spiraling thoughts. She reached for it, her fingers trembling as she saw the name on the screen.
It was a message from her best friend, Yumi.
"Kaori, I know you're struggling right now, but I want you to know that you're not alone. Please, don't shut me out. I'm here for you, no matter what. You can lean on me."
The message was filled with love, with care, but Kaori couldn't bring herself to reply. She didn't want to burden Yumi with her pain, didn't want to drag her into the abyss she was slowly sinking into. She had already done enough to those around her. She couldn't drag anyone else down with her.
Instead, she set the phone down, letting it buzz unanswered, and closed her eyes. If she could just sleep, if she could just escape this reality for a few hours, maybe the pain wouldn't feel so unbearable.
But sleep, like everything else in her life, refused to come easily. Her mind was a whirlwind of memories, of what-ifs and could-have-beens. She remembered Ryo's laugh, the way his eyes would light up when he spoke of his dreams. She remembered the warmth of his hand in hers, the way his touch made everything feel right, even when the world around them seemed to fall apart.
And then, just like that, she remembered the day he was taken from her—the car accident that had stolen him away in an instant. The impact, the screech of tires, the sickening sound of metal on metal. She could still hear the ambulance sirens, the frantic voices of the paramedics, but none of it had been enough to save him.
Her breath caught in her throat as she relived that moment, the moment when she had been told that Ryo was gone, that there was nothing they could do. The world had stopped spinning. Time had frozen. She had felt her soul fracture into a thousand pieces, scattered across the universe, never to be whole again.
Kaori sat up on the couch, her body trembling, her chest tight with emotion. It was as if the grief she had buried deep inside was now bubbling to the surface, threatening to consume her whole. She had tried to keep it together, to keep functioning, but it was too much. The sorrow was too vast, too all-encompassing.
Her phone buzzed again. Another message. This time, it was from her mother.
"Kaori, I know you're hurting, but please take care of yourself. You need to eat, to rest. We're all worried about you."
Kaori stared at the screen, her finger hovering over the reply button. She wanted to answer, to tell her mother that she was fine, that she would be okay, but the words wouldn't come. How could she say she was fine when everything inside her was falling apart? How could she reassure her mother when she couldn't even reassure herself?
She placed the phone down again, her hand shaking as she looked around the room. Her life had been reduced to this—pain, emptiness, and the unbearable weight of time moving forward without Ryo. The clock on the wall ticked on, each second a reminder of how far she had fallen from the person she once was.
She stood up from the couch, her legs unsteady beneath her as she walked toward the window. The city lights twinkled in the distance, but they did nothing to lift her spirits. They only reminded her of how alone she truly was.
It had been so long since she had felt truly alive, so long since she had felt the warmth of Ryo's embrace. She closed her eyes and let the tears fall, feeling them slide down her cheeks, one after another, until there were no more left to shed. But even in the silence, even in the dark, there was a small, fragile hope that still flickered within her.
She didn't know how long it would take, how much longer she could endure the pain. But she couldn't give up. Ryo wouldn't have wanted that. He wouldn't have wanted her to lose herself in the darkness. She had to keep going, for him, even if it felt like the hardest thing she would ever do.
The weight of time felt unbearable, but Kaori knew that, one day, she would learn to carry it. She would learn to live again. Even if it meant living without him.
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End of Chapter 41.