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    Summary

    The flower was paper-thin and fragile, its color long since faded into a ghostly yellow, but it carried the weight of a thousand unspoken words. Suddenly, Sanemi felt a sharp, hollow ache in his chest—a pain he hadn't felt for a long time. It was a remnant of the life he had been forced to abandon, a quiet memory of a bond that the London fog had never quite managed to swallow.

    He stared at the brittle petals, the image of a pair of calm, deep blue eyes flashing across his mind. He had spent seven years convincing himself he was a machine of cold ambition, yet here, in the palm of his hand, was proof that he had once been something else entirely.

    Carefully, as if afraid the flower would turn to dust if he breathed too hard, he slipped it back into the heart of the book. He closed the volume and leaned his head against the shelf, the silence of the room suddenly feeling much heavier than before.

    OR Sanemi returned after his 7 year exile thinking he had fully moved on but he never really left the restaurant

    Language:
    English
    Words:
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    Chapters:
    17/17
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