23

The next soul sat on a park bench that wasn't really there, watching children play in a memory of a sunny afternoon. Their gaze was distant, filled with longing — and regret.

The Angel of Death approached quietly, his voice gentle.

"You loved them," the Angel said softly.

The soul's voice was barely above a whisper. "More than anything."

The Angel tilted his head. "Then why did you leave?"

The soul swallowed hard, their voice strained. "I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought they'd be better off without me."

The Angel didn't look away. "Did they feel that way?"

The soul flinched, pain flickering in their eyes. "...No. They didn't understand. They thought I abandoned them."

The Angel's voice remained steady, but kind. "They didn't need you to be perfect. They just needed you to be there."

The soul's voice broke. "I was scared. I was broken. I didn't want them to see me like that."

The Angel stepped closer. "They would have loved you anyway."

The soul's shoulders shook. "I wanted to fix myself first. To come back when I wasn't… like this. But I never got the chance."

The Angel's voice softened. "Sometimes, the people we love don't need us to fix ourselves. They just need us to stay."

The soul trembled, tears falling freely now. "...Do you think they hate me?"

The Angel's voice was quiet, but certain. "No. They miss you. They grieve you. And they would have forgiven you — because they loved you, too."

The soul stared at the memory of the children laughing, their voice barely a whisper. "I just wanted them to be happy."

The Angel's voice was gentle. "They wanted you to be happy, too."

The soul closed their eyes, the weight of regret heavy in their chest. For a moment, they didn't speak. Then, slowly, they exhaled a shaky breath.

"...I'm ready."

The Angel nodded, his voice soft. "Let's go."

And as they walked into the light, the soul carried the hope that maybe, just maybe, their loved ones would understand — and find peace, too.

---

The next soul stood by a doorway that wasn't really there, one hand resting on the frame as if they were about to walk through — but couldn't. Their eyes were filled with hesitation, fear tangled with longing.

The Angel of Death approached slowly, his voice low and calm.

"You were afraid to leave," the Angel said gently.

The soul swallowed hard, their voice barely above a whisper. "I wasn't afraid to leave. I was afraid of what would happen after."

The Angel tilted his head. "After you were gone?"

The soul nodded, their voice trembling. "Yeah. I… I was the one holding everything together. Without me, they'll fall apart."

The Angel stepped closer, his voice steady but compassionate. "Do you think they'll stop living without you?"

The soul looked down. "I don't know. I was the one who made sure everything worked. Paid the bills. Took care of the house. Held everyone together when things got bad. If I'm gone… who's going to do that?"

The Angel's voice softened. "They're stronger than you think. And you taught them more than you realize."

The soul shook their head. "I didn't teach them enough. I should've done more."

The Angel watched them carefully. "You gave them love. You gave them your time, your strength, your heart. That was enough."

The soul's voice broke. "But what if it wasn't?"

The Angel stepped beside them. "It was."

The soul's breath hitched, tears brimming in their eyes. "I just… I wanted to make sure they'd be okay."

The Angel's voice was gentle, but sure. "They will be. It won't be easy — they'll grieve, they'll struggle. But they'll find a way. And they'll carry you with them, whether they realize it or not."

The soul's shoulders slumped, the weight of worry finally beginning to ease. "...You really think so?"

The Angel nodded softly. "I know so."

The soul stood there for a moment longer, then slowly let go of the doorframe. Their voice was quiet, but steady now.

"...Okay. I'm ready."

The Angel nodded. "Let's go."

And as they walked into the light, the soul carried the hope that their loved ones would find the strength to keep going — and the Angel knew they would.

---

The next soul sat on a hospital bed that wasn't really there, their hands resting on their lap, eyes fixed on the floor. Their expression wasn't sadness or fear — just emptiness.

The Angel of Death approached slowly, his voice quiet but steady.

"You stopped believing it would get better," the Angel said softly.

The soul didn't look up. "Yeah… I guess I did."

The Angel tilted his head. "Why?"

The soul's voice was hollow. "Because every time I tried to climb out of the hole, something pulled me back down. Every time I hoped, life reminded me why I shouldn't."

The Angel didn't flinch. "Hope is stubborn like that. It hurts when it breaks — but it keeps coming back."

The soul let out a bitter laugh, dry and tired. "Not for me. I ran out of second chances a long time ago."

The Angel stepped closer. "You didn't run out. You were just too tired to see them."

The soul's voice wavered. "Does it even matter now?"

The Angel's voice was gentle, but unwavering. "It matters. You mattered."

The soul swallowed hard, their voice barely a whisper. "I don't feel like I did."

The Angel's voice didn't falter. "Feelings lie. The truth doesn't. And the truth is — you were loved. Even when you couldn't feel it. Even when you didn't believe it."

The soul's shoulders trembled. "Then why didn't anyone say it?"

The Angel's voice softened. "Maybe they didn't know how. Maybe they thought you already knew. People aren't good at saying what matters most — until it's too late."

The soul's voice cracked. "It shouldn't be that way."

The Angel nodded. "No, it shouldn't. But that doesn't mean their love wasn't real."

The soul was quiet for a long moment, their voice barely audible when they finally spoke. "...Do you think they'll remember me?"

The Angel's voice was steady and sure. "They won't forget you. Not really. Grief is just love that doesn't know where to go."

The soul closed their eyes, tears slipping down their cheeks. "...I wanted to believe things would get better. I really did."

The Angel stepped beside them, his voice soft. "I know."

The soul took a shaky breath, the weight of everything they carried finally starting to lift. Their voice was a whisper now, fragile but at peace.

"...I'm ready."

The Angel nodded, his voice quiet and kind. "Let's go."

And as they walked into the light, the soul wasn't empty anymore. They weren't broken. They were whole.