Chapter 3: The Farewell

The hospital waiting room was dimly lit, the air heavy with antiseptic and silence. Ryu sat motionless on the cold metal bench, soaked from the rain, his hands still clutching the red umbrella and the crushed bouquet of green wildflowers they had handed him.

He didn’t cry—not yet. He just stared at the floor, as if waiting for time to rewind. As if Rose might come strolling through the hospital doors any second with that familiar, teasing smile.

But she didn’t.

And she never would.

It hit him later that night, alone in his room. The moment he walked in and saw the empty shelf where Rose's photos used to sit when she visited, the cup she had left behind, the hairband she forgot months ago—it shattered something inside him.

He collapsed to his knees.

Then the tears came.

Not quiet tears. Not dignified sobs.

He screamed. He wept until his throat burned, until his lungs begged for air. He clutched his bedsheets like a drowning man, as if they were the only thing keeping him from slipping away into the dark void swallowing his heart.

He didn’t eat the next day. Or the next.

He locked himself in his room, the lights off, the curtains drawn. He ignored every knock at the door, every call from concerned friends. He lay curled in bed, barely breathing, replaying her last words in his head like a cursed melody.

“I’ll bring you a surprise.”

Her smile. Her kiss. Her warmth.

Gone.

On the fourth day of his silence, the door to his room slammed open.

His father stood there, chest rising and falling with fury and worry. He looked older than ever—tired, soaked from the rain, eyes heavy with pain. Without saying a word, he stepped forward and slapped Ryu across the face.

The sound echoed like a gunshot.

Ryu blinked, stunned, his cheek stinging.

"Get up," his father said, voice trembling.

"Why...?" Ryu rasped. "Why would you—?"

"Because I'm not losing you, too."

Ryu's eyes filled again, but this time with confusion and anger. Guilt.

His father sat beside him and took a deep breath. "You think you're the only one who knows what it’s like to lose someone? Your mother—she died when you were two. I lost the love of my life. But I couldn’t cry for long. I had to raise you. I had to be strong. Not for me. For you."

He clenched his fists. "Do you know how many nights I stayed awake, wishing she could see your first steps? Your first day at school? Your graduation? But I kept going. Because that’s what we do. We move forward for those we love."

Ryu’s throat tightened. He couldn’t speak.

His father looked him in the eye. "Rose loved you. She’d want you to live—not rot away in this darkness. Don’t let her be the reason you die inside. Let her be the reason you keep going."

And that broke him again—but in a different way.

Ryu buried his face in his father's shoulder and cried. For Rose. For his mother. For himself.

He cried until he couldn't anymore.

And when the sun finally rose the next morning, for the first time in days, he opened his window.

The world was still there.

Quiet. Grieving.

But waiting.

And somewhere, in the silence between two heartbeats, Ryu made a promise:

"I'll live for her. Even if it kills me inside, I’ll live."

The farewell bell had rung.

Now, the journey of remembering—and healing—had begun.

To be continued…