SAI SHINU
I stood up and instinctively caught her hand. Without thinking, I pulled her close—right in front of me—and wrapped my arms around her.
For a moment, I wondered… had she always been this small? When I carried her here, I remembered her feeling a little heavier in my arms. But now… she felt so fragile, so light.
When she gently stroked my head, I nearly drifted into sleep. A strange feeling stirred inside me, something I hadn't experienced in so long. My stomach tightened, like it was being squeezed from the inside.
Memories of my parents rushed back. The last time I had felt this warmth—this safety—was when they held me.
Desperation clawed at me. My chest ached, my throat burned. I buried my face in her shoulder and breathed in the soft, comforting scent of her hair. And then it hit me all at once—the emotions, the loneliness, the longing.
My body went numb. My arms, my legs, my whole self… paralyzed. The only thing keeping me grounded was her. She was the one person who made me feel… loved.
And then—I broke.
Tears spilled before I could stop them, falling onto her hoodie. My voice trembled, cracked, barely a whisper.
"I'm sorry… I'm so sorry…"
She said something in return, but I couldn't hear. My emotions drowned out her words. In that moment, I finally understood how Jiro must have felt when he saw me after all those years.
Slowly, after what felt like forever, the storm inside me eased. My body began to feel warm again, the trembling faded. Though my eyes still held tears, I managed to loosen my grip on her waist and whispered shakily,
"It's okay… I'm fine now."
But she didn't let go. Her arms stayed around me.
"If you want more, just continue," she murmured.
So I did. I slipped my hands back around her waist—gentler this time, not as desperate. She leaned back slightly so we could look at each other, though she remained in my arms.
Her eyes searched mine. I felt exposed, embarrassed by my breakdown. But then she lifted her hands, cupping my face with a tenderness that disarmed me completely. Her palms were soft, her touch warm. She brushed my tears away with her thumbs, smiling faintly.
"Are you better now?" she asked.
I swallowed hard, my voice still rough. "Yes… thank you. I'm better."
We slowly let go. She lowered her hands, and I stepped back.
"Come on, let's sit on the sofa," I said.
We sat down together, but the sofa was too small—we barely fit side by side.
"I'll sit on the other one," I suggested.
But she shook her head firmly. "No. Let me do something."
She got up, picked up her cat, and set him down on the opposite sofa. Then she returned, sitting beside me again. Without hesitation, she lay down, resting her head across my legs.
Her voice was soft but steady. "Do you want to tell me why you cried?"
I nodded. "Of course. After everything you've done for me… I owe you the story."
She smiled faintly. "Actually, after you're done, I want to tell you something too."
"No problem," I said, taking a deep breath. "So… three yea—"
But before I could continue, my stomach growled loudly.
She sat up a little, frowning. "When was the last time you ate?"
"Ah… at the hospital. In the morning," I admitted awkwardly.
Her eyes narrowed. "You want me to cook?"
I shook my head quickly. "No. You're injured. I should be the one cooking for you."
She stood abruptly, her voice rising. "You call that an injury?" She exhaled sharply and shook her head. "I checked the fridge earlier. There aren't enough ingredients. We'll have to order. What do you want to eat?"
"I don't mind," I said with a shrug. "Order whatever you like."
"Fine," she muttered, pulling out her phone.
A few minutes later, she placed the order and came back to me. This time, she didn't hesitate—she lay down again with her head in my lap, looking up at me.
"Okay," she whispered. "Continue."
So I did.
I told her everything. From the day my father died… to the weight I had carried ever since. My voice shook, but I didn't hold back. And as I spoke, I could see in her eyes that she understood. She understood exactly why I had cried in her arms.