Two weeks later, the doctor issued a critical notice and told them to prepare for the worst.
A somber atmosphere settled in the hospital room that was filled with muffled sobs, hiccups and sorrowful cries.
One by one, everyone said their goodbyes, and when it was Noir's turn last, he slowly dragged his heavy feet forward and arrived by her bedside, though he had no idea what to say. His mind was numb, and his tongue heavy as if laden with lead.
What was he even supposed to say at a time like this? Goodbye? But he had already done it, no? Every single day, starting from the moment when he first noticed the black mist around her, he had already said his goodbye. He had been prepared for this day to come…
Tremblingly, her frail hand reached out to him, and Noir instinctively moved to grasp it, only to be startled by how cold it felt.
For as long as he could remember, she had always radiated warmth. This was the first time he learned that she could be this cold. Unnervingly so.
