In Nyoko's room, she was still unaware of what was happening to her husband… or what was happening to her own body.
All she felt was fatigue and a slight ache, which she assumed were just natural symptoms of childbirth.
She was playing with little Haruki, swaddled like a warm sandwich in her arms—small, helpless, completely reliant on his mother to move, to guide him through the first steps of his life.
Nyoko made a gentle cooing sound, which made the baby let out a soft, warm laugh.
In the corner stood her mother-in-law, watching her first grandchild, a smile never leaving her face, following his laughter as it filled the hospital room.
Soft, innocent laughter… unaware that beyond these walls, someone was silently falling apart.
At that moment, the white door opened, revealing Nagisa behind it—pale, slouched, eyes swollen from crying, and surrounded by a heavy, dark aura that seemed to carry a mountain's weight of exhaustion and grief.
His presence overpowered the warmth of the room, turning it cold.
The flowers arranged on Nyoko's windowsill began to wilt, their beautiful petals falling one by one, as if the illness had touched them too—eating away at their core.
The room fell silent as Nagisa entered.
Both Nyoko and his mother instantly sensed that something was wrong.
Terribly wrong.
Something had walked into the room with Nagisa—something they could not yet name, but felt in the pit of their stomachs.
"Welcome back,"
Nyoko said, her usual beautiful smile soft on her calm face.
She was trying to lift his spirits in any way she could—trying to add a bit of cheer to his heart.
But to her surprise, Nagisa didn't respond.
It was as if he was no longer the same man whose mood she could lift with a silly joke or a lighthearted laugh.
Maybe what he carried now was too heavy to be touched by laughter.
Nagisa looked at his mother, who wore a worried expression, trying to understand what had happened to him.
He was fine moments ago—before he went to the doctor's office.
He took in a heavy breath, which left his lungs in a shaky, burdened sigh.
"Mom... can you take Haruki and leave us for a moment?
I need to speak to Nyoko in private."
His voice was firm—rougher than usual, as if speaking required a tremendous effort.
As if even his body resisted the words.
His mother wanted to object, her concern growing stronger by the second, but she stopped herself.
She could feel how serious her son was—understood that he needed this moment alone with his wife.
She nodded in understanding, stepped toward the bed, gently lifted Haruki from his mother's arms, separating the two, and left the room…
making sure to close the door behind her.
As soon as they were alone, Nagisa took heavy steps toward Nyoko's bed.
The moment he reached her side, his knees gave in, and he collapsed—kneeling, his trembling body hunched forward, head bowed low, as if trying to hide his face from her.
Nyoko's eyes widened in shock. Panic started creeping into her heart.
She had never seen her husband in such despair.
She reached out to place a hand on his shoulder, her lips parting to say something—but before a single word escaped…
a sorrowful sob escaped him.
That sound made the blood freeze in Nyoko's veins.
His name slipped from her lips like a plea for help.
"Nagisa…"
"I failed!"
Nagisa cried out, raising his head suddenly—revealing what had become of him.
A shiver ran through her entire body.
His pale face was soaked with salty tears, falling like thin streams of a gentle waterfall.
She opened her mouth to say something, anything—but the words stuck in her throat.
She was completely speechless.
Meanwhile, Nagisa continued to shame himself.
"I failed!
I failed the one mission I dedicated the last six years of my life to!
I failed to protect the love of my life…
I failed to protect my wife..
I failed to protect the mother of my only child…
I failed to protect you…"
Nyoko's body trembled at the weight of Nagisa's words.
Each one struck her heart like a blow.
She didn't fully understand what he meant, but she could feel the gravity of what they were going through now.
Tears gathered in her eyes, forming a glassy layer that quickly broke into sobs.
She too began to cry.
In a room that had been filled with life and joy—now drenched in sorrow and despair—a heavy aura of grief surrounded the couple as they cried together, alone and unseen.
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