Beyond the Darkness

Part 6

Days passed since that conversation, and the weight of Hana's confession still lingered heavily between them. Yuki spent every moment he could by her side, whether in the hospital or back at her apartment, making sure she never felt alone again. He was determined to be there for her in every way he hadn't been before.

Hana was slowly recovering physically, but emotionally, the scars were still fresh. She was fragile, and though Yuki was careful not to overwhelm her, the unspoken tension between them grew stronger with every passing day.

One afternoon, Hana sat by the window in her apartment, watching the rain gently tap against the glass. It had been a week since she had opened up to Yuki about what happened, and though it felt like a relief to finally share her darkest secret, the shame still hung over her like a shadow.

Yuki came in, carrying a tray of tea. He set it down on the small table next to her, then sat across from her, his eyes searching her face. He hadn't pushed her to talk about it again, but today, he could sense something different in her.

"Hana," he said softly, "how are you feeling?"

She looked up at him, her eyes still distant, as if she was lost somewhere far away. She had been quiet ever since they left the hospital, and Yuki could see the weight of her thoughts pulling her down.

"I'm... okay," she said, though her voice was shaky. She wasn't okay, and they both knew it.

Yuki reached out, gently taking her hand in his. "You don't have to be," he whispered. "Not yet."

Hana closed her eyes, leaning into his touch. For so long, she had tried to be strong, to push through the pain by herself. But now, she was beginning to realize that maybe she didn't have to.

"Do you ever wonder if you missed something?" she asked quietly, her voice trembling with uncertainty. "Like, if you'd done something differently, would everything have turned out better?"

Yuki frowned, his heart sinking at her question. He knew what she was thinking—that if she had asked for help sooner, or if he had been there when she needed him, maybe things wouldn't have spiraled out of control.

"I've thought about it every day since I found out," Yuki admitted. "I keep wondering if there was something I could've done to prevent this. If I'd just paid more attention..."

"But it's not your fault," Hana cut in, her voice firmer than before. She opened her eyes, looking at him with a mix of sadness and determination. "What happened, what I went through—it wasn't your fault, Yuki. I should have told you. I should've told someone. I just... didn't know how."

Yuki squeezed her hand, his heart aching for her. "You were scared. And that's okay. You don't have to carry the blame for something that wasn't your fault. None of this is on you."

Hana looked down at their intertwined hands, her lips trembling as she held back more tears. She had been carrying the guilt for so long, the shame of what had happened, and Yuki's words felt like a lifeline in the storm that had become her life.

"I've felt broken for so long," she whispered. "I thought I could handle it, but every day it got harder. And I didn't want to drag you down with me. You had so much going on—your career, your dreams. I didn't want to be the reason you lost any of that."

Yuki's heart ached as he listened to her. He had always seen Hana as the strongest person he knew, but now he understood just how much she had been suffering in silence.

"Hana," he said, his voice filled with emotion, "none of that matters to me if you're not okay. Volleyball, championships, everything—it's all meaningless if you're not here."