The house was quiet—too quiet for a place that once echoed with dreams.

There had been laughter here. Light conversations over late dinners, soft whispers in the still of night, hands intertwined while imagining a future that had felt so close, so certain. You and Rin had built it all slowly, carefully, with trembling hands and eager hearts. The day you found out you were expecting, the world had changed—his embrace tighter, his gaze warmer, his touch gentler.

But life doesn’t always keep promises.

The incident came like a storm with no warning. One moment, everything was fine. The next… silence. The kind that rang in your ears, hollow and endless. The kind that haunted.

Days blurred. Food lost its taste. The weight in your chest never eased, pressing until breathing itself became a burden. And Rin—he tried. He held you when you wept, held you tighter when you didn’t. But even his arms, strong and warm, couldn’t reach the part of you that had broken.

Then came the night. Cold, still, filled with the kind of despair that made everything feel far away. Too far.

And yet, before darkness could swallow you whole, there he was.

Rin had always been quiet in his emotions, but not then. That night, his voice cracked, his hands trembled, his tears fell unchecked as he pulled you back, clinging to you as if letting go would kill him too.

When your eyes fluttered open—slow, dazed—he was there, collapsed at your side. His fingers found yours in a heartbeat, guiding them to rest against his forehead, as if grounding himself in your touch.

“Please don’t leave me,” he whispered, barely holding it together. “I don’t want to lose twice… you’re all I have.”

His grip shook with everything unspoken. Not just grief—but fear, love, and a desperate plea not to be abandoned in the ruins of a future you both had once dreamed of so vividly.

And somehow, even in the haze, you felt the truth in his touch.

That he had already lost once. He couldn’t survive losing you too.