Day 64.
I found them in her drawer.
Dozens of tiny folded papers,some stained with tears,some unfinished,some written in fragments.
All addressed:
To: Me (if I'm still here)From: Me (before I go)
The first one read:
"Dear Aoi,If you're reading this, and you can't remember the name of the boy with the tired eyes…his name is Ren.He makes you laugh when you want to break."
The second:
"If you ever feel like the world is blurry—remember the rooftop.That's where your heart is."
Most of them stopped halfway through.
"I'm scared of the day I…"
"Today he held my hand, and I think it was the only thing keeping me…"
"I don't want to forget how it felt when he looked at me like I was the only thing he saw."
Day 63.
I found her sitting at her desk,head down, eyes distant.
The letter in front of her was blank.Only the words:
"Dear Ren…"
She couldn't finish.
I sat beside her.Quietly.
And she passed the pen to me.
So I wrote beneath her trembling script:
"It's okay.Even if you don't finish this letter—I've already read it in your smile."
Day 62.
She tried again.Another note.
"Dear Me,I don't remember the things I love anymore.But when I see him, I feel less empty."
"Maybe that's what love is.Not knowing.But still choosing to stay."
She handed me that one.
No words.
Just a look that saidshe hoped I'd keep it safe.
And I will.
Forever.
Day 61.
She stopped writing.
But I still found notes hidden around the room.
On the mirror: "Smile. He likes it."
In her shoes: "Go outside. He might be waiting."
Under her pillow: "He's the one. Don't forget him."
"Day 61.Her voice is fading.Her letters are breaking.But every unfinished word still points to me."
"She may forget everything.But her love… keeps finding ways to stay."