One day latter Morning light slanted into the hospital room.
The doctor glanced at the latest charts, his tone steady.
"Shion is stable. We'll prepare the discharge papers."
Relief washed across the group, but it wasn't complete—like a shadow still lingered.
Downstairs, near the hospital entrance, Ren and Yeamori waited beside a cab. Their faces carried faint smiles, but their eyes held quiet weight.
The doors slid open. Shion stepped out slowly. His pace was heavy, but his eyes were calm. Kasumi walked closely beside him, her hand lightly supporting his arm.
At the flat's entrance, Shion turned to them. His voice was weak, but warm.
"…Ren, Yeamori, Kasumi… thank you. For helping me this much."
Ren snorted.
"What, you're saying thanks now? That's weird coming from you."
Yeamori smiled faintly. "Formality doesn't suit you, Shion. You're fine the way you are. 'Thanks'… sounds unnatural."
For a second, Shion studied them both. Then he let out a slow breath. A rare, soft smile touched his lips—as if their words had lifted some of the weight.
Kasumi's voice was gentle.
"See you tomorrow."
Ren and Yeamori nodded. The cab rolled away, leaving only silence between Shion and Kasumi.
---
Inside the flat, the dining table carried a folded hospital report—a silent weight neither could ignore.
Shion sat at the dining table chair, eyes empty. Kasumi brewed coffee in the kitchen. Her hands trembled so much that the spoon clinked against the cup, betraying her fear.
"I held it together at the hospital… but now, it's all breaking inside," she thought.
The moment she set the cup down, control slipped from her hands. She rushed forward, collapsing onto his lap. Her arms wrapped tightly around him, desperate.
Tears spilled uncontrollably.
"Shion… what do I do? Fate keeps taking everything from me… and now I'm terrified of losing you too."
For a moment, Shion stayed still. Then, slowly, he rested his hand on her back. His face remained blank, but the corners of his eyes glistened faintly. His heartbeat thudded against hers.her face resting his shoulder.
"…Kasumi." His voice was quiet, almost a whisper.
Her sobs grew louder, breaking into small gasps. "Ahhhh… ahh…"
In the middle of her cries, she pressed her lips to his—soft, desperate, pouring every emotion into that single kiss.
Shion didn't resist. He only tightened his arms around her, holding her as if they could shut out the world.
The room filled only with their heartbeats.
---
A Latter, Kasumi still trembled in his lap. Shion quietly lifted her, carrying her with surprising gentleness. She didn't resist, only pressed her face against his chest.
"I'm here, Kasumi. Don't be afraid."
His voice—usually flat—was now full of warmth.
He laid her down on the bed, then he go in hallway but... Instantly, Kasumi clutched his sleeve tightly.
"Shion… please. Stay with me."
He squeezed her hand softly. Without another word, he lay down beside her. Under the blanket, silence settled—just their breaths, just their heartbeats.
---
Next morning.
Kasumi nestled against his shoulder, eyelids heavy.
"…Sorry about last night. I couldn't control myself."
Shion turned his gaze toward her, a faint softness in his lips.
"You don't have to apologize. I was… glad you were beside me."
Moisture welled in her eyes again, but this time no tears fell. Instead, she smiled—gentle, fragile, but real.
That night wasn't passion. It was companionship.
A quiet promise: For now, we're still together.
---
Days slipped into months.
Kasumi's voice, distant in memory, whispered through the seasons:
> "Sometimes it feels like time has stopped… but then I realize—we've lived another month, another season."
Summer.
She brewed iced coffee; he complained it was too sweet, then drank it all anyway. Ren and Yeamori visited sometimes, their laughter filling the house, but when they left… silence returned, and it was just the two of them again.
Spring.
Blossoms bloomed. From the balcony, Shion murmured, "Everything looks new… except us."
His words carried a faint ache, but when he pulled her close, Kasumi understood more from his silence than his sentences.
Winter.
Snow fell outside. Wrapped in a blanket together, Shion's hands were cold. Kasumi gripped them tightly in her own. He whispered, "Kasumi… when I'm gone, promise you'll move on."
Her eyes snapped to his. "Sorry. That's impossible."
He tried to continue, but she stopped him. She refused to hear it.
Another summer.
Shion no longer went to school. He tired more easily, staying home, reading, or staring at white pages. Kasumi laughed sometimes, cried sometimes—but he was always there, under the same roof, breathing beside her.
One life. Two people. Shared as one.
---Chapter 32 end---