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The days following their conversation had felt both heavy and light at once, like the fragile balance between the wind and the rain. Kaori had found herself walking a thin line between moving forward and clinging to the past, each step forward feeling as though she were betraying something precious.
But there was a quiet comfort in Haruto's presence. It wasn't a constant reassurance that everything would be okay—no, it was deeper than that. It was the kind of support that existed without expectation, the kind that whispered, "I'm here," without needing to say a word.
Despite the soft embrace of his understanding, Kaori couldn't shake the feeling that something was missing—something that she couldn't quite grasp, no matter how much she searched for it.
It was on one particularly crisp evening, with the sun dipping beneath the horizon, casting the world in golden hues, that Kaori found herself standing at the edge of the park where she and Kei had once spent so much time together. It was a place that had been theirs, a place that now felt like a distant memory, barely tangible in the face of everything that had come afterward.
She let her fingers trace the familiar outline of the bench where they had sat countless times, talking about everything and nothing, their hearts open and full of dreams. It had been their sanctuary, their quiet place in the world where the noise of the outside could never reach them.
But now, it felt like a tombstone, marking the place where everything had ended.
"Why do I keep coming back here?" Kaori whispered to herself, her voice barely audible against the rustling leaves. "Why can't I let go?"
She sank onto the bench, her head resting in her hands as the weight of it all threatened to crush her. The emptiness in her chest felt vast, like a void that refused to be filled, no matter how many times she tried to move on.
And yet, despite it all, she couldn't let go. It wasn't just the memories of Kei that bound her to this place. It was the regret, the guilt, the feeling that somehow, she had failed him by surviving, by moving forward when he had been taken from her.
She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to push the thoughts away, but they wouldn't leave. They were always there, lurking in the corners of her mind, whispering their reminders of everything she had lost.
"Kaori?"
The voice was soft, familiar, and for a moment, Kaori thought it was just another trick of her mind. But when she looked up, she found Haruto standing before her, his expression soft yet tinged with concern. His eyes searched hers, as though trying to understand the storm that raged inside her.
"I didn't mean to disturb you," he said gently, his voice like a balm against her raw emotions. "But I couldn't help but notice you'd been sitting here for a while."
"I'm sorry," Kaori said, her voice trembling. "I didn't realize how much time had passed."
Haruto sat beside her, his presence grounding her in a way she hadn't expected. They sat in silence for a moment, the only sound the rustling of the leaves and the distant hum of the city. Kaori couldn't bring herself to speak, her heart too heavy with the weight of her thoughts.
"I never really asked you about him," Haruto said after a while, his voice barely above a whisper. "Kei, I mean."
Kaori stiffened slightly, but she didn't pull away. It wasn't a question she had been ready to answer, but she realized, in that moment, that maybe it was time. Maybe, just maybe, sharing the depth of her pain would make it easier to bear.
"He was everything to me," she began, her voice quiet, almost as if speaking the words aloud would make them too real. "We grew up together. He was my first love, my only love. I never thought I'd lose him. I thought... I thought we'd grow old together, that we'd face everything together."
She paused, her chest tightening as the memories flooded back—memories of their laughter, their late-night talks, their shared plans for the future. All of it, gone in an instant.
"And then he was taken from me," Kaori continued, her voice breaking. "Just like that. And I was left behind. It feels like I was never supposed to move on from that moment. Like... like I don't have the right to be happy, to love someone else, when he's gone."
Haruto was silent for a long time, his gaze never leaving her as she spoke. When he finally spoke, his voice was filled with an understanding that touched something deep inside her.
"You don't have to carry that burden alone," he said softly. "I'm not asking you to forget Kei, or to erase him from your heart. What I'm asking is for you to let yourself heal. It's okay to love again, Kaori. It's okay to feel happiness, even in the midst of your pain."
Kaori's breath caught in her throat, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she allowed herself to feel something other than guilt. She didn't know if she was ready to let go of Kei entirely, but maybe, just maybe, she could start to move forward without forgetting him. Maybe there was room in her heart for both the memories of what she had lost and the hope for what could be.
"I'm scared," she whispered, her voice small and fragile. "What if I lose everything again? What if I'm not strong enough?"
Haruto turned to face her fully, his expression gentle but firm. "You don't have to be strong all the time, Kaori. It's okay to be scared. It's okay to be vulnerable. You're allowed to have moments of doubt. But you don't have to face them alone."
Tears welled in Kaori's eyes, and she didn't fight them as they spilled over. She didn't need to hide anymore. She didn't need to pretend that everything was okay when it wasn't. In that moment, she allowed herself to grieve, to feel the depth of her sorrow without the fear of judgment, without the weight of expectation.
Haruto reached out, his hand gently brushing against hers. She looked up at him, her eyes searching his face, and in that moment, she saw something there—something that had been slowly building between them, something that felt like hope.
She wasn't alone. And maybe that was enough for now.
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End of Chapter 61.