Chapter 7

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CHAPTER SEVEN

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CHAPTER SEVEN

Y/N OCCUPIED HER HOSPITAL BED, her head facing downward, strands of hair cascading down her neck, framing her delicate face

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Y/N OCCUPIED HER HOSPITAL BED, her head facing downward, strands of hair cascading down her neck, framing her delicate face. The room enveloped her in somber melancholy, an atmosphere steeped in a chilling coolness that seemed to seep into Suguru's very bones. The vase, cradling the flowers, stood on the table beside her, its contents seemingly surrendering to gravity as the petals slowly descended.

Suguru sat nearby, his presence steadfast as he believed he was engaged in a conversation with his beloved. Her lips moved with an entrancing grace, each word spoken like a delicate note in a symphony that had long captured his heart. Yet, despite his intent focus, the words remained elusive, a series of sounds that he strained to decipher. Every nuance, every inflection carried a weight of significance, and he yearned to bridge the unfathomable gap that kept their voices apart. But no matter how earnest his efforts were, her voice remained distant, a muffled melody that he could never quite comprehend.

What was supposed to be a joyous sanctuary felt strangely distant, like a mirage just out of his reach. The gulf between them seemed to widen, casting a shadow over the room that should have been filled with light. Despite being in such close proximity, there was an intangible barrier separating them, leaving Suguru with a harrowing ache brewing on his chest.

"Are those words meant for me, my love?" His voice quivered.

He watched her intently, searching for a hint of recognition or understanding in her eyes.

As his gaze remained fixed on her, he noticed her grip on the blanket slowly loosening, her fingers finding their way to her upper arm, making her frame look so frail. A sharp pang of concern shot through him, his heart aching to ease any pain she might be feeling. He wished he could offer her some solace, to reach out and comfort her. For a fleeting moment, her gaze shifted away, and when it returned to meet his, her eyes held a depth of emotion that was impossible to ignore—a wellspring of profound agony that tugged at his heartstrings.

Her lips moved again, an intricate swirl of words whispered like delicate secrets on a windswept breeze. The softness of the fabric stood in glaring contradiction to the enormity of the pain that seemed to emanate from the core of her being. The blanket encased her body like a shield, though it could offer no true protection from the storm of emotions that raged within her. 

"Who caused you this pain?" His voice fell to an octave of both tenderness and concern.

A solitary tear marked the landscape of her cheek, tracing a path like a silent river of heartache. Another followed, then another. Suguru's brows furrowed, his own heart echoing with the weight of her pain. It was as though he could feel the sharp edges of her emotions slicing through his own soul. Her tears cascaded like delicate crystals. The galaxies within her eyes twinkled, not with stars, but with the reflection of a profound sorrow he had never known before. He wished he could gather those tears, bear her anguish for her, and turn it into something more bearable.

As he watched her tears create an ocean of sorrow, he couldn't help but feel his heart bleed in resonance. In this moment, their bond felt like a lifeline, a connection that allowed them to share their pain as if it were a tangible thing between them, and he was determined to be there for her, to share in her burden, even if it meant feeling the depths of her ache. He reached out, his fingers ready to brush away her tears, but he can't. He can't feel the warmth of her skin. Frustration clawed at him. It was as if an impenetrable divide had formed between them, and he was left standing on one side while she existed on the other. Reaching for her feels like he was grasping a smoke.

His features were marked by confusion, which reflected the pieces of his disintegrating reality like the intricate cracks in a broken mirror. He felt as though everything around him was bending and twisting, becoming a warped version of what he had previously comprehended. The once-familiar room had turned into an ambiguous, abstract landscape. His eyes widened as he became aware of the unfathomable coldness all around him, not just in frustration. His fingertips went numb, and a trail of goosebumps followed as the cold sliced through his senses. An absence, a void that seemed to whisper of things lost, had taken the place of the warmth he had connected with her presence.

"Y/N...?"

The weight of his increasing bewilderment caused his voice to falter, the words lingering in the air like particles of incredulity that she couldn't hear. His thoughts were racing, trying to find a mooring in the roiling sea of his senses. As he grappled with the shifting reality, his consciousness expanded beyond her physical presence, tracing the direction of her gaze, which he assumed was directed at him. He turned around, his eyes extending to the scene around them where the longest period of time had not mattered. There, a figure of dignified stature appeared in that blurry panorama.

"Satoru..."

Suguru's voice flew from his throat, the name spilling out of his mouth as he saw the silhouette of his best friend appear in the distance. It was both familiar and startling to see Satoru, with his striking shock of white hair and his intense gaze. It appeared as though Satoru had entered a realm where he shouldn't have been because the lines separating their worlds had become hazy.

In that crystallized moment, the truth unfolded before Suguru's eyes, crashing into his consciousness like waves against the shore. The woman, her gaze fixed upon Satoru, was not addressing him. It was Satoru who had become the focus of her attention. In that moment, Suguru realized he was on the outside looking in, a witness to a conversation he had mistakenly believed was his own. Satoru's words were a solemn tune laced with a deep sense of pity and condolences. There was an imprint of knowledge embedded in the lines drawn on Satoru's face, an expression that reflected the deep sadness he was expressing.

Satoru wasn't just offering words; he was delivering a truth Suguru wasn't prepared to hear.






















I'm sorry for your loss...































❞

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𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐀𝐄𝐓𝐇  Suguru GetoWhere stories live. Discover now