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It wasn’t fair.
It wasn’t fair to see her like this, face buried in the pillow, muffling her sobs in the darkness of the room. It wasn’t fair that Momo suffered so much for someone who could no longer hold her, who could no longer comfort her.
Mai was there.
She was always there, every night, watching her from the shadows like a restless ghost, trapped between the desire to embrace her and the helplessness of knowing she never could. She wanted to scream at her that she was by her side, that she didn’t have to cry anymore, that everything would be okay. But Momo didn’t see her. She couldn’t see her.
No matter how hard she tried, no matter how desperately she whispered her name or tore her throat apart in a silent scream, Momo never turned around. Never answered.
Mai sighed, closing her eyes in resignation as she leaned against the cold wall of the room they had once shared as a refuge. Everything remained the same: the unmade bed, the books stacked on the desk, Momo’s jacket hanging on the chair’s backrest. Everything untouched, as if she could return at any moment. As if her absence were nothing more than a cruel joke played by fate.
But it wasn’t a joke. It was real. Mai was dead. And Momo… Momo was still trapped in grief.
She didn’t know which of them it hurt more.
“God, Momo…” she whispered, her voice breaking.
She couldn’t bear it any longer. The intensity of the sobs cut through her chest like a knife, a sharp, merciless pain that reminded her of everything she had left behind. She moved closer to the bed with silent steps, as if she still carried real weight in this world.
With the same gentleness she once used when touching Momo in her sleep, she lay beside her, fitting her ethereal body into the space that was once hers.
Momo trembled, clutching the pillow tightly, her shoulders shaking with every stifled sob. Mai frowned, her heart reduced to ashes inside her nonexistent chest. This was pointless. She knew Momo couldn’t feel her. She knew her touch was nothing but an illusion. And yet, she slid her arms around her, enveloping her in an embrace that would never reach her.
And then, Momo stopped crying.
Mai held her breath, her face sinking into the crook of the girl’s neck. Her skin was warm. So warm, so alive, that it hurt.
Why couldn’t Momo fall in love with someone better?
Why did it have to be her?
She clenched her teeth bitterly, squeezing her eyes shut. It was a sick joke from fate. Momo always deserved someone better, someone who could stay. Not a Zenin. Not someone doomed from the moment they were born.
“There are beautiful people in this world… far more than I could ever be,” she whispered, her words floating in the air like a prayer. As if, deep down, she hoped Momo could hear them. “Please…”
The sob that followed shattered her.
Mai was never one to cry. Her whole life had been an ocean of pain where tears had no place. The clan, Maki, her fate as a disposable piece… Everything had hardened her to the point where she thought she had no tears left. Not even when she died did she feel the need to cry.
But Momo always had the damn habit of stirring everything inside her.
She trembled. Her hands, her nonexistent body, her voice, breaking like glass as she watched Momo clutch the pillow even tighter, as if she could unconsciously feel her there.
Mai closed her eyes and placed a kiss on her shoulder.
“Forgive me for leaving you…” she murmured, her voice barely a whisper in the wind. “Forgive me for not staying. I wanted to, I swear.”
But it no longer mattered. She was dead. And Momo would never hear the words she had always wanted to say.
She would never know that Mai’s type of woman had always been her.
It had always been the girl who made her want to leave behind everything bad and hold on to the good.
That was Momo. Her type of woman.
Mai swallowed hard and shut her eyes tightly.
“I love you… but let me go.”
And in that instant, Momo clutched the pillow even tighter.
Mai felt her chest shatter into a thousand pieces when Momo’s hand moved, searching for hers. For a second, just one second, she wanted to believe it would work. That this time would be different.
But Momo’s hand passed right through hers as if she weren’t there.
Mai pressed her lips together, stifling a sob, letting the tears fall without resistance.
“I love you… Why did you leave?” Momo murmured in her sleep, her voice broken.
Mai trembled, clinging to her with desperation.
“I know… I know, Momo… I’m sorry…” she whispered, her soul in ruins.
The Zenin were damned to hell—if such a thing even existed. But if there was truly a punishment after death, this was hers: watching everyone suffer in her absence, tormenting herself with the thought of whether everything could have been different if she had simply taken Momo’s hand that day and gone back to school together.
Justifying herself was useless. She could say that Maki needed her, that it was an inevitable sacrifice, but the truth was, she had never really considered it as a real choice until it was too late.
There was no turning back.
She sighed, looking at her with sorrow.
“Look on the bright side…” she murmured with a bitter smile. “You’ll get to start over with someone who won’t hurt you.”
Even though, deep down, she had always wanted her to be happy with her.
But you couldn’t always win.
She held her tighter, staying by her side until Momo’s breathing calmed and her sobs faded into the stillness of the night.
Mai sighed. She was asleep now.
With reluctance, she slowly sat up and watched her for a few seconds. The moonlight bathed her face, highlighting the trail of tears on her cheeks.
Mai raised a trembling hand and tried to brush her skin, but her touch never reached.
She averted her gaze and wiped her own tears with the back of her hand.
It was time to go.
She rose from the bed, giving Momo one last glance before disappearing through the door, her heart even more broken than the night before.
Maybe Miwa was still awake. Maybe she needed to see her.
Maybe she needed to ask for forgiveness for not staying.
And even if no one heard her, even if no one could see her, Mai hoped that everyone knew she never wanted to leave.
She truly hoped so.