Hinata's POV
They say every room has memories trapped in its walls.But mine… feels alive.
Every day, when I come back from work—tired, messy, drained—the moment I step inside this room, something inside me exhales. The world outside feels cold and heavy, but here… here, I can breathe.
I don't know why.Sometimes I even feel like someone's here with me.
When I lie on the bed and talk to myself, it feels like someone listens. When I cry, the air grows warm. When I smile, I swear I can feel the faintest echo of another smile in the room.
It's strange.And yet, I've never felt safer.
Ren's POV
For three months, I've watched her.Three long months in which every small moment of her life has somehow become part of mine.
At first, I hated her.She was messy. Clumsy. Always humming out of tune. She left books open, half-eaten food on the table, and talked to herself like she lived in another world.
"What an annoying woman," I'd mutter, rolling my eyes. "If I were still human, I'd never stand someone like her."
I was proud once—a man who thought emotions made you weak. Even death didn't humble me. But then… something about her did.
The way she laughed at her own jokes. The way she whispered apologies to herself when she broke something. The way she cried silently so no one could hear.
At first, I just watched.Then I began to wait.Wait for her to come home. Wait for her to talk to the air again.
And every time she did, I felt alive—if only for a moment.
Hinata's POV
I've started to talk to the empty space near the window.It sounds crazy, but I can't help it.When I whisper "I'm tired today," it feels like someone understands.When I smile, it feels like someone smiles back.
Sometimes, the wind moves gently through the curtains, brushing against my hair like a kind hand. I laugh quietly to myself."Whoever you are," I say softly, "thank you for staying."
Ren's POV
That night… something changed.
She was sitting by the window, moonlight spilling over her face, tears glimmering like small stars.I wanted to touch her. Just once.To tell her she wasn't alone.To tell her that even if the world turned its back, I never would.
And maybe that wish—too heavy, too full of longing—broke something between our worlds.
Because suddenly, she looked up.Right at me.
Our eyes met.Her breath caught, and mine—though I no longer breathed—felt as if it had returned.
She didn't scream. She didn't run.She just stared at me, eyes wide, trembling, whispering as if afraid the moment would vanish—"You were real… all this time?"
And for the first time in years, I found myself smiling—"I've been here… every day."