Between Us

Chapter 51 : Alive, but Not Whole

The wooden house was beautiful, the kind of place you could lose yourself in if you let it. Warm tones of oak and pine stretched across the walls, polished floors reflecting the soft glow of the fireplace that crackled quietly in the corner. Everything felt cozy, almost too perfect. But to me, it was just... empty.

I held my coffee cup in both hands, its warmth bleeding through the ceramic, grounding me for a moment as I stared out the window. The view was stunning—endless trees, their branches heavy with the last colors of autumn. But my mind wasn't here. It hadn't been here for a long time.

Charlotte.

Her name slipped into my thoughts, uninvited, but always there, hovering in the background of every quiet moment. I took a slow sip of my coffee, but it did nothing to fill the ache in my chest. Everything about this place was perfect, except for the one thing that mattered.

I swallowed, staring at nothing in particular, my gaze fixed on the distant treeline. Did I make the right choice? I'd asked myself that question a thousand times since that night. A part of me wanted to believe that disappearing was the only way. That my life, my choices, were too dangerous for her. But another part, the part that missed her with every breath, wondered if I should've just... let it end that night.

Maybe it would've been easier.

I was alive, but just barely. And for what? For a life without her? I couldn't even bring myself to answer that question anymore. It was too heavy, too tangled with guilt and longing. Every time I tried to make sense of it, my thoughts circled back to the same conclusion: I should have died. But instead, here I was, hidden away in this quiet, beautiful prison.

I placed the coffee cup down on the window sill and turned toward the mirror. My reflection stared back at me, tired eyes, hair pulled into a loose knot, a face that barely felt like mine anymore. I pulled my sweater up slowly, revealing the wound.

The bullet from Mew had torn through me, both literally and figuratively. I ran my fingers across the scar, feeling the raised skin beneath my fingertips. It was a reminder—of the choices I made, of the consequences I couldn't escape. A reminder that I wasn't supposed to be here.

"You should take your medication," Pichy's voice cut through the silence behind me.

I didn't turn around, didn't acknowledge her right away. My gaze drifted back to the window, to the trees, to the life that was no longer mine. She didn't push me, but I could feel her presence, waiting. Always waiting. Pichy had been with me through everything, more than anyone knew. She understood why I had to disappear, but that didn't make it easier.

The soft clink of pills being placed on the table followed by a sigh. "Engfa."

I took a deep breath, finally turning to face her. Pichy stood there, arms crossed, a mixture of concern and frustration on her face. She didn't say anything at first, just stepped closer and lifted my sweater again, her fingers gently tracing the scar like she had done a hundred times before.

"You're healing well," she muttered, almost to herself, as if she needed to confirm it. She let my sweater fall back down and met my eyes. "But you need to stay on top of your meds. You know that."

I nodded, walking over to the table, the clatter of the pills loud in the otherwise quiet room. I downed them with a sip of cold coffee, the bitterness making me wince slightly. Pichy watched me, her doctor instincts kicking in, but there was something else there—something deeper than just medical concern.

"I know what you're thinking," she said, her voice softening. "And I'm not going to lecture you about it."

I raised an eyebrow. "Since when do you pass up an opportunity to lecture me?"