Between the pages

Chapter 22 ...

~ His Pov ~

"Do you believe in reincarnation...?"

Her words linger in my mind as I step out of the room, a dull echo that refuses to fade. The question hangs in the air, almost too soft to grasp, yet it presses against me with an unsettling weight.

Who in their right mind would believe in something like that? A cycle of life and death, rebirth after rebirth—just a fantasy, a hope spun to ease the burden of the inevitable. It's a comforting thought for the dying, I suppose, but it's not real.

She's clinging to that delusion, and I can't help but wonder if she truly believes it, or if it's just another way for her to cope with the harshness of what's happening to her. It's so painfully hopeless.

And yet... I'm still attached to her existence. Why? Why am I still so invested in someone who's fading away, someone who might not make it much longer?

It's absurd. They were right. I should've never let her in. She's nothing but trouble, a reminder that hope doesn't always lead to anything but disappointment.

She's impossible... No wonder her parents lost hope in her. She's a lost cause, isn't she? A fragile thing clinging to the edge, trying to hold on, but never really getting anywhere. They gave up, and I can't blame them.

But...

She's just trying to survive.

Like everyone else in this world.

We all are, aren't we? Grasping at whatever we can, pretending there's something waiting for us beyond this mess. Maybe we're all just a little bit hopeless, and she's no different. Just another soul, desperately holding onto a belief, a hope... some fleeting dream that keeps her going, even if it won't be enough in the end.

I can't bring myself to hate her for that. But I can't keep being a part of it either. She's better off without me. The more I'm involved, the worse it gets.

Maybe I should distance myself... before I get too attached, before I make things harder than they already are.

—-----------—

It's been a week since I last visited the hospital. I ignored her calls... ignored her texts.

My coworker said it was for the best, but it didn't settle right with me. Maybe they were right, but the thought of walking away completely—it just didn't sit well. Then again, maybe I was just getting too attached.

I shake my head, pushing the thoughts aside, and turn back to the customer at the counter, offering a polite smile as I place their cup of coffee down.

"Hey, I'm done for the day!"

"Alright, thanks for taking the shift, Giyu," they reply, a hint of gratitude in their voice.

Because I haven't been visiting, I've had more free time. More time to fill with whatever I want.

But no matter how much time I had, I always ended up standing in front of the hospital, just outside its doors, debating with myself if I should go in or not. The urge to turn around was always stronger than the impulse to walk inside.

In the end, I always took the bus back to my apartment, like clockwork.

I guess I'm just scared—scared I might get attached again, scared of what happens if I let myself care too much.

I think... I think I'm already too far gone.

—-----------—

"Hey, when's the last time you visited Y/N?"

"About a week ago, why?"

"Well, you're on time more often now. Did she get better?"

My friend's words hit me with a weight I wasn't prepared for, not in the way you'd think—there was no surprise, no shock, just this heavy silence that lingered between us. I couldn't answer her. Deep down, I knew she wasn't getting any better. That bitter truth weighed on me, but I didn't want to say it out loud. Not to anyone.

It was frustrating, really. Every time I tried to push her from my mind, her name would creep back in, like a song you can't shake, a thought you can't forget.

I wasn't tired of it though. I didn't think I ever would be.

"Yeah, she's better," I muttered, though the words felt like they didn't belong. It wasn't the truth, but it was easier to say.

My friend nodded, accepting the answer without question, and went off to tend to her usual duties around the coffee shop. I wasn't working today, so I was left with nothing but time to think—or avoid thinking.

I pulled my phone from my pocket, its screen still dark, and checked for messages. It was a habit now, even though I knew, deep down, nothing would have changed. Still, I checked, out of some strange hope.

No messages. No calls. Not even a "good morning" from her.

A sigh escaped me, though I quickly pushed it down, trying not to feel the emptiness that sank in. Maybe she didn't need me anymore.

She'd usually find some excuse to text me, but now... it was silent. The thought hung in my chest, and for the first time in a long while, I felt uncertain.