The forest was older than I remembered.
Each step into it felt like stepping back in time—like the air itself grew heavier with memory. Trees leaned in as though they recognized me. The path bent and twisted, but I didn't get lost.
I knew where I was going.
Back to the place it all began.
---
The river.
The bank.
The bleeding girl in the water.
But this time, I wasn't a scared boy dragging her body toward salvation.
This time, I was chasing the ghost of a choice.
---
I reached the clearing by dusk.
The wind was quiet.
The air was still.
And the soil… soft.
Like something beneath it had been recently disturbed.
I dropped to my knees.
Hands trembling.
And I dug.
---
It didn't take long.
The earth came up in chunks under my fingernails, and the deeper I went, the more I felt it.
Not fear.
Not pain.
But recognition.
I hit wood.
Old, rotted.
I pried it open.
Inside was a box, wrapped in plastic. Taped shut. Labeled only with a single initial.
A.
I opened it.
Inside—
The sketchbook.
Her hair ribbon.
A photograph of us I'd never seen before—taken from behind, my hand in hers as we walked down an empty street.
And beneath that… a voice recorder.
I pressed play.
---
Her voice crackled through the speaker.
"If you're hearing this… then you remember. At least enough."
"I'm sorry I couldn't wait any longer."
"I wanted to stay. I wanted to believe the dream would last. But it wasn't just you who was breaking."
"It was me."
A pause.
Then:
"You weren't the first one I loved."
"You weren't the first one I followed into darkness."
"But you were the only one who looked back."
---
I sat in silence as the message ended.
The recorder clicked off.
My chest was tight. My throat burned.
She had known.
All along.
She knew the dream wouldn't hold.
---
I took the ribbon and tied it around my wrist.
Walked to the river and let the water wash the dirt from my hands.
The sun had begun to set, bathing the forest in a soft red glow.
And that's when I saw her.
On the other side of the river.
Standing beneath the arching limbs of an old tree.
Hair longer now. Dress white. Eyes full of the same impossible sadness.
"Aiko…"
I stepped forward.
She didn't move.
"Why did you leave?"
"Because you were ready," she said.
"To be alone?"
"No." She shook her head slowly. "To forgive yourself."
---
My knees buckled.
"I don't understand."
She walked across the stones toward me, each step light and deliberate.
"You buried more than just memories here."
She reached for my hand.
"You buried your guilt."
And then she pressed something into my palm.
A second ring.
Silver. Untarnished.
Just like the one she'd worn.
---
"I never gave this to you," she whispered. "Because you still hated the one who needed it."
"Who?"
She touched my cheek.
"You."
---
I broke.
I fell into her arms like a dying star collapsing inward.
And for the first time, I wept without shame.
---
We spent that night in the forest.
No words.
Just the warmth of her beside me.
And when the sun rose, she was still there.
Real.
Alive.
Whole.
---
"You're not a ghost," I said.
"No."
"You're not a dream."
"No."
"Then what are you?"
She smiled, and the forest bloomed with color.
"I'm the piece of you that refused to die. The love you tried to destroy because you thought you didn't deserve it."
---
We walked back to the cabin together.
Hand in hand.
The birds sang again.
The garden had grown wild in our absence.
Bellflowers stretching toward the sky, like they were trying to reach heaven.
---
That night, we stood before the fire again.
She held both rings.
"Will you marry me," she asked, "even if we're both broken?"
I laughed. "Especially because we are."
We exchanged rings beneath a sky full of stars.
And when we kissed, I felt something shift in the world.
Not fate.
Not magic.
But truth.
---
There was still more to come.
More darkness.
More ghosts.
But for now—
We had each other.
We had a home.
We had a future.