Ducks

Ren was unusually cheerful at breakfast that morning.
"That little one of yours," Evelyn remarked, sipping her coffee. "She’s good for you."
"Isn’t she? Such an adorable kid. It’s obvious she takes after me."
"She doesn’t look much like you, though."
Ren pressed a finger to his wife’s lips. "Shhh, she’s just like me on the inside."
Evelyn laughed. "If you say so. You like her so much, why not bring her here whenever you want?"
"I thought you might feel uncomfortable."
Evelyn shrugged. "Doesn’t make much difference to me whether there’s one Ren or one and a half."

Ren kissed her, thanking her for her patience, then got ready to meet Mirea. That day, he took her to the aquarium. The little girl clapped and hopped excitedly after seeing every new fish. It was a massive aquarium, and she soon tired out. Ren hoisted her onto his shoulders, continuing the tour that way.

Holding her small legs with one hand and her tiny hand with the other to steady her, Ren marveled at how quickly he’d grown attached to her. He’d always thought he hated kids, yet here he was, feeling more at ease with her than Kaede had ever been.

After their outing, Ren dropped Mirea off at home. Lately, this had become their routine: Ren would bring her back, Kaede would invite him for tea, and Ren would decline, heading home instead. That day, however, he felt it was starting to come off as rude. He finally accepted Kaede’s invitation.

Over tea, Kaede spoke casually, mentioning she was seeing someone. She praised Julian, calling him thoughtful and kind.
Ren chuckled. "Good for you. My wife’s not particularly kind, but I think that’s why I love her."
"I’m happy for you, Ren. Bring her over sometime, please. Meeting like this, just the two of us, might bother her."
Ren smacked his forehead. "Why didn’t I think of that? You’re right. Thanks, Kaede. By the way, you look healthier. These years have been good to you."
Kaede smiled softly. "It’s all thanks to my little girl. If it weren’t for her..." She paused, realizing too late what she had started to say. Forced to finish, she admitted, "I wouldn’t have gotten over you so easily."

Ren’s expression darkened. "But I’m glad you left that day. I’m happier now than I was back then. And you seem happy too."
Ren nodded. "I am."

Ren left before it got too late, whistling a cheerful tune as he walked home.

But as he neared his house, he saw black smoke rising. Panic gripped him, and he broke into a run. His wooden home was nearly burned to the ground, the fire having just been extinguished.
"Evelyn!" he shouted, expecting to see her smiling beside the emergency crews. He looked around frantically but saw no sign of her.

Pushing past the robots trying to block him, Ren ran inside. Near what used to be the staircase, he found a charred, unrecognizable body. Evelyn’s body. Her hair and skin had been burned away, leaving only a blackened shell. The acrid smell of the fire burned his lungs as he struggled to breathe.
"This isn’t her," he yelled. "It can’t be her! She’s smart, she’d have gotten out!"

Then he saw it: the ring on the corpse’s finger, a flashy five-stone diamond. It was Evelyn’s.

For a moment, Ren’s body felt foreign to him. He didn’t tremble, vomit, or cry. It was as if losing loved ones was nothing new to him. As he removed the ring, the burned finger came off with it. He recoiled, carefully pulling the ring free from the severed digit.

The stench of burned flesh clung to the air, even noticeable from several houses away. Ren sat amidst the ashes, watching the robots retrieve Evelyn’s body on a stretcher and perform scans.

A robot approached him with questions, but Ren didn’t respond. It didn’t matter. The robot draped a blanket over him. Pulling his knees to his chest, Ren rested his head on his arms, clutching Evelyn’s wedding ring in his palm.
"Why did I leave her alone?" he muttered. "What the hell was I doing out there?"
"I always leave the ones I care about," he said, the words falling from his lips before he could understand them. "And when I come back, they’re gone."

Ren didn’t know how to grieve, he never had. He only knew how to live and fight. But now, he was trapped in an endless void once more.

He wandered through the ruins of his home. The cabinet with their photos had burned. The room where they’d drunk their homemade liquor, racing to see who’d get drunk first, was gone. Evelyn’s beloved sewing machine, a gift from him, was reduced to ash.

Unable to bear the memories any longer, Ren left. The yard was scorched, but the stone shed remained intact. He sat inside, searching for something that might remind him of Evelyn. There was nothing; she had never liked the shed.

Ren returned to living as he always had. He bought a replica of his old guitar and continued meeting Mirea daily. But he no longer smiled, and his mind often drifted, leaving him deaf to the world around him. Mirea grew bored of his company. She began spending more time with her friends or her caretaker, leaving Ren to sit by the duck pond, watching the ducks for hours.

He stared at them so often that he knew every detail of their feathers.

A few days later, a robot arrived at his shed to deliver a report.
"What was your relationship to Evelyn?" the robot asked.
"We were housemates," Ren replied, as his lack of legal identity left him no choice.
The robot recorded his answer. "The body in the fire… it was Evelyn’s, wasn’t it?" Ren asked, desperation creeping into his voice.
"Unfortunately, yes. Her identity was confirmed through dental records."

The robot continued, "The fire seems to have started from your stove. A towel and wooden utensils nearby caught fire, spreading the flames."
Ren’s face remained blank. "Oh, is that so?" Then something struck him. "But there weren’t any towels near the stove!" His empty gaze sharpened, his brows knitting together.

The robot responded, "That, we don’t know. But I’m here to deliver another piece of news. According to the autopsy, Evelyn didn’t die from the fire. She was killed by a blow to the skull. The murder weapon was likely destroyed in the fire. We currently have no leads on the suspect, but we’ll inform you if we find anything."

Ren’s mind raced, a thousand thoughts vying for attention. Who could have killed her? Was it an old enemy of his? Or was it connected to Evelyn’s father, who worked for the government?

One phrase echoed in his head: "A blow to the skull."
"No, no, this is nonsense!" Ren muttered to himself, pacing frantically.

Unable to stand the uncertainty, he bought a butterfly knife from a shop along the way and walked aimlessly until he found himself at a familiar door.

"Ah, you’re early today. Would you like to come in for some tea?" a voice greeted him.