[Renji's POV—Eight Months Later]
Eight months.
Eight months since I woke in my world—this too-bright, too-small world without Alvar.
Eight months since the hospital discharged me. Eight months since I cut ties with the woman who only remembered me once I was useful.
Eight months… And I still haven't moved on from him.
From Alvar.
His name still sits under my tongue like a ghost. His voice still echoes in the back of my skull—warm, broken, calling my name. His touch still burns faintly on my skin when I close my eyes at night.
I'm alive here. But some part of me—the part that mattered—never made it back.
My hospital bills swallowed everything I had. Savings—gone. Job—lost. Apartment—evicted. Resume—stamped with "one-year coma," which was apparently enough to make every company in this city run the other way.
So now?
I work part-time… in a coffee shop.
A small, warm-smelling place at the corner of a station street. Wooden counters. Plants everywhere. Soft jazz is playing.
