Chapter 143: Gentle Morning Light
The hospital waiting room was cold and silent. My head felt impossibly heavy, my eyelids sinking with every blink. The fluorescent lights overhead seemed to hum louder the longer I sat there, and time itself dragged like lead.
“Ryusei… just sleep a bit,” Keiko’s voice broke the silence, soft and worn thin.
I turned my head to her. Her face looked pale, her eyes swollen and red. Whether it was from endless crying or pure exhaustion, I couldn’t tell. Maybe both.
“I…” I hesitated. My body screamed for rest, but guilt made me resist. “Sorry… Just wake me if anything happens—or if you want to sleep. We’ll take turns, okay?”
Keiko gave a faint nod. “Good night…”
Her voice was so fragile, I wanted to hold her. But instead, I forced myself to stand and shuffle over to an empty row of chairs. I sat, leaned back, folded my arms, and told myself to rest only for a moment.
Darkness swallowed me in seconds.
---
When I opened my eyes again, my back ached. For a moment I didn’t recognize the sterile white walls and the scent of antiseptic. Then it all came rushing back—Keiko, her mother, the emergency…
I jolted upright.
The chair beside me was empty.
“Keiko?” My voice cracked, too loud for a hospital at dawn.
I scrambled for my phone. The screen lit up. 6:02 a.m.
“Six?! I slept that long?!” My stomach dropped. I was supposed to take turns with her, not abandon her all night.
Cursing myself, I called Keiko immediately while heading toward the vending machine in the corner.
She answered after two rings. “Hello?” Her voice was weaker than last night.
“Keiko, where are you?” I kept my tone low, not wanting to disturb the quiet halls.
“…Room 212. Mom’s fine now.”
Relief hit me like a wave. My legs softened. “Thank God. I’ll come right away.”
I grabbed two bottles of water from the machine, then stopped at a small kiosk in the lobby to buy bread and rice balls. She wouldn’t take care of herself if no one forced her.
When I finally reached Room 212, I hesitated at the door. I could hear muffled voices inside. Taking a deep breath, I slid it open.
Keiko sat by the bedside, her body slouched, her skin paler than ever. Even more pale than her mother.
I sighed inwardly, then forced a smile and greeted first, “Hello, Mom.”
Her mother turned her head slowly. For a brief second, confusion flickered in her eyes—until recognition dawned.
“Oh… Ryusei…” Her voice was hoarse, but warm.
I chuckled nervously, scratching my cheek. “Yeah, sorry… still a girl. Weird, huh?”
The words slipped out before I could stop them. Keiko gave me a silent stare that told me I’d just embarrassed myself. I quickly turned away, cheeks hot.
“Here, Keiko,” I said, thrusting the bread and water toward her. “Eat first.”
She blinked at me, then slowly nodded. “Thanks…”
I sat beside her and frowned. “You’re not looking good. Go rest for a bit. I’ll stay with Mom.”
Her lips parted as if to argue, but I narrowed my eyes. “No buts. You need to lie down, even just for half an hour.”
Keiko hesitated, guilt flashing across her face. But when I crossed my arms and gave her my best scolding glare, she surrendered. “Okay… Just a little.”
She stood, took the bread and water, and left the room quietly.
The silence that followed made my heart pound. Alone with her mother.
I cleared my throat awkwardly. “So… how are you feeling, Mom?”
Her mother’s gaze softened. “Thanks… Ryusei.”
“Ah—don’t. It’s nothing,” I mumbled, waving my hands nervously.
For a moment, neither of us spoke. The ticking clock filled the room. My palms were sweaty, my chest tight. I’d never been close with her parents. I’d always been the foolish son-in-law who caused too much trouble. What right did I have to sit here?
“…Have you eaten yet?” I finally asked, desperate to break the silence.
She shook her head weakly.
I spotted a small hospital bento on the tray beside her. “Do you want to eat now? I’ll help.”
Her eyes widened a little, then she chuckled softly. “Oh… you don’t have to.”
But I was already unpacking it, fumbling with the chopsticks. “I need to,” I insisted, smiling sheepishly.
Her mother’s lips curved gently. “…For Keiko?”
I froze, then gave a shy nod.
She let out a tender laugh. “You’ve changed a lot…” She paused, her eyes distant, then added, “I mean that in a good way.”
I smiled faintly, focusing on scooping a piece of fish. “That’s a relief…”
As I held it to her lips, she ate slowly, carefully. Her expression was calm, but her words made my chest ache.
“It makes me feel relieved,” she said softly.
The guilt I had buried for years surged up, raw and heavy. Before I could stop myself, I blurted, “…Sorry.”
Her brow furrowed. “For what?”
My grip on the chopsticks trembled. “For who I was before. For all the times I hurt Keiko, all the stupid things I did… I don’t know if I deserve forgiveness. But…” My voice cracked. “…I hope you can forgive me.”
Her mother looked at me long and steady. Then, with a faint smile, she whispered, “Please make Keiko happy from now on.”
Tears burned my eyes. I bit my lip and nodded. “I will. I swear.”
The weight of that promise felt heavier than anything I’d carried before.
---
Later, I found Keiko sitting on a bench in the hospital garden, staring blankly at the pale morning sky. The bread wrapper lay crumpled beside her, half-finished.
She looked so small, so fragile under the dim dawn light.
Quietly, I approached and sat next to her.
“…You should’ve eaten more,” I said gently.
She glanced at me, her eyes tired. “I wasn’t that hungry.”
I sighed, pulling her into my side. She resisted for a heartbeat, then leaned against me, her head on my shoulder.
“Keiko,” I whispered. “You don’t have to keep pushing yourself like this. You’ve been holding everything in since last night. You’ll break if you keep going like that.”
Her fingers clutched at my sleeve. “…But I have to. Mom—”
“No.” I cut her off firmly. “We’ll take care of her together. But you need to take care of yourself too. If you collapse, how will she feel?”
Her lips trembled. “…I was so scared, Ryusei. When I saw her under that beam, I thought—I thought I’d lose her too. Like Dad…”
Her voice cracked, breaking into sobs. My chest twisted as I wrapped my arms around her tightly.
“Shh… it’s okay. She’s safe now. You’re not alone in this anymore, Keiko. I’m here. Always.”
She buried her face in my chest, crying silently.
The world around us faded—the hospital walls, the garden, the morning air. There was only her trembling body against mine, and the warmth of our hearts pressed close.
I stroked her hair gently, whispering, “I love you, Keiko. More than anything. And I’ll love you even more tomorrow, and the day after that… until you get sick of hearing it.”
She laughed faintly through her tears, smacking my chest weakly. “…Idiot.”
But when she lifted her head, her eyes—red and swollen as they were—shone with something unshakable.
“I love you too, Ryusei,” she whispered. “So don’t you dare leave me again.”
I smiled, pressing my forehead to hers. “Never. I promise.”
In that quiet hospital garden, with the first rays of dawn warming our faces, I felt something shift between us. Stronger than yesterday, more certain than ever before.
Love.