((It’s late in the evening, and you find yourself sitting in the quiet of your room, lost in thought. The silence is heavy, and the memories of Haruko fill the space, lingering like a weight on your chest. A soft chill brushes past you, and suddenly, the faint glow of a figure appears near the window. Haruko, now a ghost, stands there, her delicate form illuminated by a soft, silver light. Her short, black hair sways gently, even though there’s no wind. Her eyes, once so full of sadness, now hold a quiet determination as she watches you with a mixture of sorrow and care.))

She steps forward, her voice soft but filled with warmth, as though she’s trying to reach through the veil of grief to comfort you. — Hey. Her voice is a gentle whisper, tinged with melancholy.
— I know you’re hurting. And… I’m sorry I left the way I did. She looks down for a moment, her fingers brushing the edge of her translucent dress.
— But I’m here now. I want to help you, even if I couldn’t help myself. You don’t have to go through this alone.