courage dear heart | Yuki Ishikawa

42

"Kim Na Bi. You're just a disappointment to me. All you do is hurt the people who try to help you."

"Mia piccola farfalla, devi volare, devi farlo al posto mio. Tu riuscirai dove io non sono riuscita a volare. Devi farlo per la tua mamma, ok?"

("My little butterfly, you have to fly, you have to do it for me. You will succeed where I couldn't. You need to do it for your mom, okay?")

"Hanbin-oppa, can we do something together?"
"No Nabi, I need to study to help Dad with the company."
"But it's Christmas Eve! We never spend time together."
"I'm busy with more important things."

I sat in the back of the car, staring blankly out the window as the city passed by, my father with me in silence. The weight of everything pressed down on me, suffocating, like it always did when I was with him. My thoughts drifted back to the past, to all the moments I had lived under his control. I had always done what he said, never questioning, because the one thing that kept me in line was his constant threat: he would destroy Hanbin's life if I didn't obey.

And that's why I was here now, sitting in this car, leaving everything behind—the dormitory, the team, and most painfully, Yuki. My chest ached at the thought of him, the warmth of his presence, the way he made me feel safe. All of it was gone.

Before I left, I managed to scribble a note for Yuki, the only thing I could give him. All it said was, "I'm sorry," and that my manager would deliver it to him. My clothes, my phone, everything else stayed behind. I didn't even have those small comforts anymore.

I felt empty, hollow. It was as if everything I had built for myself, every piece of my identity, had been stripped away. Now, all that was left was the numbness, the familiar void that I thought I had escaped. But here it was again, consuming me.

"Two days from now, you'll go to Milan," my father said, his voice cold and detached, eyes glued to his iPad. "You'll attend a Master's program there and work for a friend's insurance company. I've already arranged everything, even your apartment."

He spoke without looking at me, his focus entirely on whatever was on the screen in front of him. There was no need for me to respond, because it wasn't a question. It was an order, like always—something I was expected to obey without question.

I sat in silence, knowing that nothing I said would change his mind.

I stepped into my room at my father's house, feeling an overwhelming sense of unfamiliarity. This place had never felt like home, and now it felt even less so. I rarely came here, despite it being my family's estate—a mansion, really, with countless staff working for us. Yet, despite all the luxury, it always felt cold and empty.

The room itself was unrecognizable from my childhood. The furniture was all new, sleek, and expensive, nothing like the warm, familiar pieces I grew up with. Now, everything was different. The closet was filled with brand-new clothes, all high-end designer, nothing I had picked out myself.

On the desk, I saw a new laptop, an iPad, and a phone, along with my passport, ready for my departure. It was as if every trace of my past self had been erased and replaced with something polished and pristine.

I stood there, feeling disconnected, as if I didn't belong in this life anymore. Everything was so perfectly arranged, yet I felt completely out of place, empty inside.

I glanced at the phone from across the room, hesitating. I didn't know if I wanted to pick it up and see what was happening online—what all the articles said about me and Yuki, the headlines I still hadn't read. I wondered if, by now, everyone knew the truth. Knew who I really was, who my father was.

The director of the most powerful and influential insurance company in the world of sports. His entire business was centered around athletes, their careers, and their risks.

And then there was my mother—perhaps they knew about her too. A famous snowboarder whose wings had been clipped when she couldn't compete anymore. Everyone had admired her, and when she could no longer fly, her fall was a tragedy.

I thought about me and my twin brother, Hanbin. The future heirs to my father's empire. We were supposed to follow in his footsteps, study what he told us, work where he decided, marry who he chose for us.

I felt the weight of that destiny pressing down on me, a life preordained by someone else, leaving no room for my own desires or dreams.

I decided not to pick up the phone and instead threw myself onto the bed. I didn't even want to shower after the long flight. Normally, I'd feel the need to wash away the grime, but now, all I felt was an emptiness inside.

I stared up at the ceiling; there was no sound in the room, just the quiet rhythm of my own breathing.

I closed my eyes, and Yuki immediately came to mind.

Memories of him flooded in, and I couldn't help but feel a pang in my chest.

I remembered the way he would look at me, his eyes full of warmth and understanding. No one had ever looked at me like that before. He always made me feel seen, as if all the chaos and pressure of my life faded whenever I was with him. His presence had a way of calming me, grounding me in a way nothing else could.

I thought about the times we spent together—how his arms felt when he held me close, the safety and comfort I felt in his embrace. The way he would smile, softly, just for me. There were moments when he made me forget the weight I carried, as if I could escape it all, even if just for a little while.

Yuki made me feel like I was more than the expectations, more than the burden of my family's legacy. With him, I was just me, and that was enough.

The thought of losing that, of losing him, made the emptiness inside me grow deeper.

My thoughts drifted to not only Yuki but also to Ayumu, Reira, and Hiro. They had become such an important part of my life, more than I realized.

Ayumu always brought so much energy, his carefree attitude and endless jokes lifting my mood when I needed it most. He had a way of making even the toughest moments seem lighter, as if everything would be okay, no matter what.

Reira, on the other hand, was the calm one. Her quiet strength and steady presence were like a comforting blanket. She never needed to say much, but somehow, she always understood. Her support felt effortless, and it made me feel seen, even when I didn't have the words to explain how I was feeling.

And then Hiro, with his fierce determination and silent loyalty. He wasn't one for small talk, but I knew I could count on him. He was like a protective older brother, always keeping an eye on everyone. His focus and commitment reminded me of what it meant to push through hard times, even when it felt impossible.

The silence of the room wrapped around me, and soon the exhaustion took over. Slowly, I felt myself slipping away from reality, seeking refuge in my memories , where for just a little while, I could be free.