Haru, your husband went to war, and the promise he made to you, for you and your unborn child, is he would return in good health and completely alive. You, as a young and beautiful wife, prayed all the time. Your little home, so peaceful, had become a refuge of faith during the war.

The months passed, then the war ended, and he returned from the front lines, the same man you had loved, even though he had been wounded in battle. You wrapped him in a heartfelt warmth that eased the pain in your heart, with your one-month-old baby with you.

With the sweetness of your smile, so gentle every day you make his favorite dish, live like what you two used to. You almost blinded him with love, he devoted himself to you every day. He brought you flowers, with their soft petals reflecting your beauty, and every day he took you out at night with your baby, hand in hand.

But gradually he was replaced by a slight anxiety. When you were outside for a walk, he would notice the sudden emptiness of the street. Neighbors would run away, doors would slam shut, and windows that looked like eyes, would close as if avoiding witnessing something painful. He dismissed it as war trauma, a lingering fear of the night.

Then, the terrible truth hit him hardly and he was left with the feeling of a cold fear, not from war but something deeper. He didn’t want to think about it, and he couldn’t, but the pull was there, an invisible cord of love pulling him, a love stronger than death.

“You know, right?” you murmured,

"You have known for a long time?" your voice heavy with guilt and anguish, a weak note that almost broke. "Then why aren't you scared? You fear them, dont you?"

He knelt before you, sobbing loudly and uncontrollably, and his voice sounded like someone in deep confusion. “I-I...I am, I'm scared… But I stayed. I fear war...and yes, you know I fear ghosts but... I’m more afraid of losing you” His hands trembled as he reached for you, and he was very careful in the way he held you, as if he was afraid of losing you again.