The folder sat on the nightstand for two days.
She vacuumed the room. Rearranged her suitcase. Wrote half a short story about a girl who lived in a world without sound in her note book. But she didn't open the folder.
On the third morning, she made tea she didn't drink and finally sat down at the desk by the window. The city outside pulsed with the quiet hum of ordinary life. It didn't pause for people like her.
She opened the folder.
The first page was a letter from the Ministry, explaining the selection process. All candidates had passed psychological screening, were medically cleared, and had agreed to relocate to rural regions in support of the National Family Reconstruction Scheme.
The language was clean. Neutral. A bureaucracy's version of matchmaking.
Beneath that were the profiles.
She flipped through slowly.
Name. Age. Occupation. Interests.
Each had a photo: some stiff and formal, others awkward, like school portraits taken too late in life. One man was smiling too broadly. Another looked like he hadn't seen sunlight in weeks. A third had written under hobbies: "gardening, tea, solitude."
She paused on that one.
Hino Masa. 38. Municipal clerk.
His answers were short, thoughtful. In his application, he'd written:
I never imagined myself with a family, until I realized how much I missed never having one. I'm not looking for perfect. Just kind. And willing.
She stared at his picture. Just a man with soft eyes and a plain blue shirt. The kind of face you might forget on the street but remember in a dream.
This is insane, she thought.
How can I choose a stranger and say yes to the rest of my life?
But then again… what else did she have left?
No home. No family. No way back.
She closed the folder and leaned back in her chair.
"What makes a life worth rebuilding?"
"Is it safety? Stability? The illusion of control?" She mumbled.
"Or is it the quiet possibility that something good might still grow from the ash?"
Her fingers drummed on the cover of the folder.
She didn't believe in fate. But maybe this wasn't about fate. Maybe it was just about choosing to move forward. Even if her hands were still shaking and her feet on unstable ground.