Volume 2 – Chapter 28: The Night Before

[July 10 – 11:45 PM]

It was a silence thick with words, the sort that fills an apartment when the world is too weary to continue. Even the city outside, so often submarined in the noise of traffic and murmured conversations, had quieted beneath the weight of the storm. All that remained to be heard was the scratch of pen on paper, the rustle of turning pages, and the occasional sigh of frustration — mine and Rika’s.

I sat at the table in front of my half-finished vows. Words stared back at me, in half-formed thoughts, the ink glimmering under the warm light of the lamp. It wasn’t that I didn’t know what to say — I knew how I felt. But how did you find the words for something this big? How do you take love — the kind of love forged in the heat of the fire and the fear — and turn it into ordinary sentences?

My eyes settled on Rika, curled into the couch across the room with a notebook on her lap. She had her legs folded beneath her, a look of concentration on her brows. Every so often she would tap the pen against her chin, exhale sharply, scratch something out.

I smiled faintly. “You’re struggling too, huh?”

She looked up, startled, then gave a breathy laugh. “Yeah. Turns out, even putting love into words is more difficult than I realized.”

I leaned back in my chair. “It’s not about perfection, around making it perfect. Just… saying what’s real.”

She hummed in reply, her eyes returning to the page. “I think I just want to do this justice.”

I understood that. This was no mere wedding — it was a rebellion against the decay all around us. A promise that against all odds, against the looming end, we were still here. Still choosing each other.

I put down my pen, stretched and rolled my shoulders to release the tension that had tightened there. “We need to get some sleep soon. Big day tomorrow.”

Rika nodded, but did not stir. Instead, she glanced down at her notebook, sliding her finger absentmindedly along the tops of the pages. There was something distant in her expression, something hovering between nostalgia and uncertainty.

“You okay?” I asked.

She hesitated, then sighed. “It’s just… weird. Reflecting on how things have changed in a short period of time.”

I looked at her for a moment and nodded. “Yeah.”

When an entire three months ago, we were two people just trying to survive, getting pulled along by the chaos. We weren’t talking about the future — there was no future, not really. But now, here we were, making plans, writing vows, selecting a date as though time still belonged to us.

“It is weird,” I admitted. “But it’s also right.”

Rika glanced up then, locking eyes with me. There was an understanding between us, one that didn’t require words. After a moment, she shut her notebook, put it aside and stood. She crossed the room, slowly, hesitating long enough for me to figure out what she wanted.

Before she needed to ask, I opened my arms.

She climbed into them without speaking, her body pushing against mine, her heat entering my flesh. I put my chin on the top of her head and shut my eyes for a moment and just breathed her in.

“Stay with me tonight,” she said in a whisper.

I stiffened a bit — not because I didn’t want to, but because of what that meant.

She leaned back just enough to see up at me, her fingers tightening slightly in the fabric of my shirt. “Not like that. Just … I don’t want to be by myself tonight.”

I breathed out slowly, nodding. “Okay.”

Without another word, we transferred to the bed, the gravity of the moment enfolding us like a shroud. We lay next to each other without touching at first, just sharing the same space, listening to the steady beat of rain outside. The storm hadn’t let up.

Rika moved a little bit, her fingers grazed mine. A small, hesitant touch.

“Kaito?”

“Yeah?”

She hesitated, her tone softer, this time. “Promise me we’ll get through this.”

I looked over at her I did. The dim light of the bedside lamp framed her face in soft gold, glinting off the strands of her hair where they fell over the pillow. In this way, she seemed fragile — exhausted, unsure, real.

Then I reached out without thinking. First my fingers found her cheek, then tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear. She didn’t move away.

“We will,” I murmured. “Together.”

She breathed out, slowly, tremulously against my skin. I squeezed her tight, planting a kiss on her forehead.

The wind howled outside, rattling the window. The rain beat against the glass, unrelenting. But inside, there was warmth.

Inside, for the time being, there was us.