Disclimber: This story is based on true story..!!
Every person has a story, every person lives a different life. I had mine too. People make many mistakes in life and learn from them. I made many mistakes as well—but this one may be unforgivable.
When I think back, I realize my life was actually fine. Everything was in order. I used to go to work every day, come home, and live a life that, on the surface, looked happy and ordinary. Yet, deep inside, I was dissatisfied. I felt that whatever I had was worthless. At work, there were constant issues with colleagues; at home, arguments with family; and on top of that, the endless taunts of my siblings. All of this began pushing me into depression.
I wanted to restart my life completely, from zero. Slowly, I distanced myself from my family. I never really made friends in the first place. One day, while browsing the internet, I discovered an organization—one that specialized in making people disappear, voluntarily, from their old lives. At that moment, it felt like exactly what I was looking for.
I gathered details, saved up the required money, and eventually made the payment. I was thrilled, convinced I had finally found freedom. That evening, when I returned home, the house was oddly quiet. I wondered why no one was there to welcome me. I freshened up, but when I came back, my entire family suddenly appeared—singing the birthday song, holding a cake, their faces glowing with happiness. Yet, even then, I didn't realize what I was about to lose. I cut the cake, sang along, laughed, and played with them. Later that night, everyone went to sleep.
Then came the moment of my departure. I quickly packed my essentials and left the house around midnight. The organization had told me: Never turn back. Never say goodbye. And perhaps that was my real mistake—because after stepping outside, once I was certain everyone was asleep and I could no longer wake them, I turned back, whispered my goodbye to the house and the family inside, and walked away.
A black car arrived at the designated location. A cold, distant woman stepped out, asked me a few questions, and then took me along. I was brought to their office where formalities were completed. Finally, the last step arrived: leaving my city, my old life, behind forever.
The thought struck me: "From today onward, I will never again have my family, my siblings, my former life." The weight of that realization froze me for a moment. But it was too late. The payments and procedures were complete. I sat in their car, watching the road vanish into the night.
When we reached the destination, I stepped out—and in front of me stood a house. My new house. My new life.
Yes, I had wanted to live alone. But not like this. This was too much. In just a few hours, I had abandoned everything—my name, my identity, my job, my home. Haruto Isamo no longer existed in the world. I was someone else now.
At first, life went smoothly. I had everything I once thought I wanted. A fresh start. But gradually, fear crept in. Loneliness consumed me. No one knew me here. I had no family. I knew they were searching for me, and the thought of their pain would suffocate me. I constantly felt I had done something terribly wrong.
Why? Because those I left behind were not strangers—they were my family. My blood, my parents, my siblings. At the very least, in the old life, when I came home, I would see their faces. I carried the responsibility of being someone awaited, someone whose presence could bring a smile or a prayer to another's lips.
But now? Now, if I stayed away for nights, even days, no one would call. No one would ask where I was, why I hadn't returned. Because now, no one was there at all.
It has been two years since I began living this way. What was once a passing sense of guilt has grown into unbearable longing. I no longer enjoy anything. I crave the sound of my sister's voice calling out, my mother's scolding question—"Why are you so late?", my brother's sarcastic remark—"Mom, he's always like this, crazy." I long to hear those voices again. Only now do I realize how priceless they were. They were my life, my heart, my reason to smile.
Money, success—what meaning do they hold without family? I thought I was struggling for their happiness, but in the end, I destroyed it. I knew they were searching for me. I even heard news about them. Then one day I learned the unthinkable—my mother had lost her sanity because of my disappearance. My siblings bore that pain. My father, too, lost his mental stability.
Still, I did not return. I couldn't. There was no way back. But I wanted to. Desperately. I finally understood: the step I had taken was an act of cowardice. I was weak. Instead of facing life's hardships, I ran from them. And in doing so, I destroyed not only myself but also my family.
This mistake is now the grief of my entire life.
So I ask you—do not make the same mistake. Love your family. They are the ones who care for you without any price. When they scold you, it is for your own good. When they wait for you at home, it is because you matter to them. When they ask you to put down your phone, it is because they care.
I lost all of this. You must not.
THE END....